


Peace Children

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Betrayal, Het, Implied lemon, Intrigue, Kidnapping, M/M, Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Rough Sex, Yaoi, political turmoil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by Zillie--"The heir of each clan will journey to Our court, to keep Our sweet daughter company. These peace children will meet here in a time no less than three weeks from today. Send messengers immediately -- each child may bring no more than two companions, and each child will bring a gift for the Princess. If we cannot command peace from their parents, we will instill it in these children."--(archivist note: this was supposed to have a sequel. while that would have been cool as heck, this fic can stand alone as it is.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \-------------  
> Warnings: um. yaoi. fantasy. Fairly Relena sympathetic in places. There WILL BE an Original Character who DIES. There may be lemony fresh moments!

The king's lips tightened. Other than that he showed no reaction to the news that might destroy his kingdom and his way of life. All he said was, "are you sure?"  
  
The spymaster stared at the floor. "Yes, sire."  
  
"How long has it been gone?"  
  
The spymaster knew his life could end with a single glance at the warrior beside him. "We are not sure, sire. We simply know that the one we possess _\--_ is not the true one."  
  
"Who knows this?" the king asked.  
  
"I, sire. The General. One of my most trusted men. Yourself, and the Princess." He wondered if that was a good idea _\--_ the child was no more than fifteen, after all.  
  
"No more will learn," the King decreed, "because we will regain the original."  
  
Startled, the spy glanced up, then quickly down again. "Yes, sire."  
  
"Your majesty," the general said, "but what if we do not?"  
  
"Failure is not an option," the king decreed.  
  
"Sire, the item could be anywhere. We have no idea what it may look like _\--_ how it may be hidden. If any of the clans learned _\--_ if Oz learned _\--_ "  
  
The king looked down his regal nose at his advisor. "Oz will not learn. Their new king, this Treize, he may be a worthy successor to his father-in-law but he is still young. As far as he knows, we are as powerful as ever."  
  
"But the Clans, my lord. If any hint _\--_ you know how they fight amongst themselves."  
  
The king nodded. "I do indeed, which is why we will now implement a plan that we have been considering for some time. The heir of each clan will journey to Our court, to keep Our sweet daughter company. These peace children will meet here in a time no less than three weeks from today. Send messengers immediately _\--_ each child may bring no more than two companions, and each child will bring a gift for the Princess. If we cannot command peace from their parents, we will instill it in these children."  
  
"An excellent plan, my lord, but these children you speak of are already old enough to have the old hatreds instilled in them," the General pointed out. "They all already have their own loyalties and hatreds."  
  
"We have spoken; Our will be done," the king commanded, and, recognizing that for the dismissal it was, the spymaster and the General bowed and left.  
  
When they had gone the princess turned to her father. He was staring out the window. He noticed her attention and sighed. "Well, Relena, I am putting a burden on your shoulders, I fear."  
  
Impulsively she put a hand on his shoulder. "We will find it, Father. We will find the weapon."  
  
+  
  
"To the palace?" She laughed. "You must be kidding. Me?"  
  
"My lady Catherine," the messenger said nervously, eyeing the lions the Lady moved confidently among, "The king has spoken. You are to remove yourself to the palace immediately."  
  
"For how long?" Catherine, heiress of the Wanderer Clan, asked bluntly.  
  
"The king did not speak on that matter, sweet Lady," the messenger said, wondering what precisely that smell was. "You are allowed two companions, and urged to make haste."  
  
Catherine turned back to her lions. "I see."  
  
\+   
  
"As you know, your highness, there are nine clans in the Sanc Kingdom," her father's advisor told Relena. She put on her "attentive face."  
  
"The first is the Odin Clan. They send their heir Heero for my lady's companion. The Odin Clan is a warrior clan, one of your father's strongest defenses."  
  
Who would have stolen it? She smiled sweetly at the man _\--_ G, he was called _\--_ and tried to think of who wished the kingdom disorder and chaos. There was Oz, of course _\--_ the neighboring country was larger, and had in the past been expansion-oriented. They had been treacherous in their dealings with Sanc before.  
  
"My lord Heero will have been taught to control himself to an extreme, yet will be open to his emotions. The Odin place great value on emotion, believing truth to be something felt rather than proven."  
  
Yet the spymaster had seemed to think that the Weapon had been missing for some time.  
  
"The second-formed Clan is the Marquise Clan."  
  
Relena stopped her thoughts, wondering if G would actually tell her what everybody knew but no one dared mention.  
  
"The heir of the clan is known as Zechs, and he inherits from his mother," G said, and moved on.  
  
Relena hid her disappointment. She, like much of the court, had her suspicions. . . but they would wait.  
  
"The third formed clan is the Wanderer Clan. They formed when a wandering group _\--_ Gypsies, if you will _\--_ were honored with name and clan status after saving the kingdom from catastrophe. They are still known for their, um, free-thinking."  
  
Relena smiled politely. Everyone knew that the Wanderers were uncivilized brutes.  
  
"The Lady Catherine will undoubtedly prove an interesting addition to court life."  
  
Relena found herself hoping that the Lady Catherine would wear bear skins and swing from chandeliers. That would prove interesting.  
  
"The fourth-formed clan is the great Winner Clan. There is also a Winner Clan in Oz, and one in Mercia, and one in. . . ."  
  
And surely, Relena thought, resuming her earlier train of thought, if Oz had the Weapon they would surely march on Sanc? She knew little about the new king, Treize, only that he had married the princess and taken over after her father's death two years before, displacing the king's young son. As she remembered, one reason he had been able to do this was that the prince had not been the son of the king's wife, but of a Sanc concubine. So instead of a prince they had given the throne to a Clan son. She shrugged to herself. Oz was a strange, strange country.  
  
"From all reports Honored Quatre is a nice person."  
  
That stopped her for a minute. A nice person? What kind of description was that? Hadn't he just finished telling her about the known power and wealth of the Winner Clan _\--_ possibly exceeding the power and wealth of her own father? The limits of the Winner family's reach was not known. And the heir, the Honored Son (typical of these desert people to pass over dozens of perfectly good girls for the one boy) was a Nice Person? She resolved to keep her eye on this Quatre.  
  
"The fifth clan will have ties to the Winners _\--_ Honored Quatre's mother was a Reberba. They are a small, reserved clan. Not much is known. They send to you their daughter Faiza."  
  
Reserved _\--_ Relena thought of the common expression, tricky as a Reberba. And to be Quatre Winner's half sister _\--_ or was it his first cousin? In either case, she could not rule out either of them. Which brought her to her conclusion. One of the Clans had stolen the Weapon.  
  
"The sixth clan is also a warrior clan, known as the Dragon. They are a clan of the far north, of the mountain ranges. Their son Wufei is said to be a fair warrior. They believe passionately in justice, my lady _\--_ I hope you can count on justice from them." And if they thought her father unjust, would they steal his greatest power? Would the Winners seek to extend their power _\--_ the Wanderers take revenge for the slights they must receive constantly? The Odin _\--_ would these perfect soldiers seek the perfect weapon? Or the Marquise _\--_ from all stories her father had slighted them, years ago. They might feel that it was only right that they _\--_ that their son Zechs _\--_ receive the king's inheritance.  
  
"The seventh clan split from the Dragons three centuries ago, over some small matter that they will not discuss. They are neighbors, but they will have nothing to do with each other. They send their daughter Meiran for your highness's pleasure."  
  
Relena smiled, even more sweetly. There were always reports of the Nataku and the Dragons fighting over some small matter. Would one or the other have tried to win once and for all with the Weapon?  
  
"The eighth clan is called the Maxwell. They were founded by a holy man who took in orphaned children after the War of the Flowers. They are known for their good works, and for their merchants. They send their daughter Hilde to you."  
  
Relena imagined Hilde _\--_ weren't all Maxwells greedy and grasping? They were only known for their charity work because the books said so. She could count on a nice gift from this Hilde, at least. The thought made her smile sparkle just a bit more.  
  
"The ninth clan is called that _\--_ Noin. They are the final clan by the king's decree. They send their daughter, Lucrezia, to court."  
  
The man bowed. Relena rose. "We thank you, kind sir," she said. "We are sure that your information will help us welcome these Peace Children to court." And, having heard the same bloody information for the millionth time and thanked him for it again, she swept out of the room. After all, she was a princess. She would be queen one day _\--_ she would, gods willing, wield the weapon.  
  
Which brought her back to the biggest question of all _\--_ why had it not been used?  
  
What were they waiting for?


	2. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \--------------  
> no spoilers, no real warnings though an OC does act harshly towards another OC please enjoy!

"This is a nightmare."  
  
The younger boy laughed. "It is indeed! All of these rich carriages _\--_ all at once _\--_ whatever shall we do?"  
  
Solo threw a gentle punch. "Cease your laughing and prove to me that you're worth the food I work so hard to feed you each day."  
  
"Yes, my lord, of course, my lord," the boy jeered. He looked at the paper on the table for a moment, then shrugged. "We split up. You take Ian, Grundy, and Daffy. I'll take Zika, Bloody, and the Poet. We could try sending Mace with the Blues and possibly Jays. Ignore the Nataku and Dragon _\--_ they travel in austerity. You take the Odin tonight _\--_ I'll take the Winner/Reberba. Tomorrow you go for the Maxwell, and I'll take the Marquise."  
  
Solo cuffed him again. "Give me the warrior, do you?"  
  
The slighter boy shrugged. "That's why I said Daffy. If you're lucky you won't be noticed _\--_ help yourself to the decorations, as it were. If you are noticed, you fight until you can run. I could do it."  
  
"I think not," Solo said. "Your groups for tonight will be acceptable. Tomorrow, though _\--_ I want to see the king's bastard. You take the Maxwell."  
  
The boy pouted. "You know how well they guard their merchants. I think their Lady would be a harder target."  
  
"You're always bragging about what a good thief you are," Solo told the boy. "Now prove it."  
  
"And if I'm caught and thrown in jail? Or killed?"  
  
Solo toasted him. "I promise to have a good ballad or two written about you. Duo the highwayman. Now get ready _\--_ you've got a rich person or two to rob."  
  
The Poet moved quietly, as always, and tapped him three times on his left shoulder, then deliberately laid two open hands on him, then four fingers. Fourteen guards. For two children. He flashed his companion a smile, then jerked his head at the two in a tree across the way. He saw Bloody nod back, and then they disappeared into the shadows. He nodded to the Poet and she slipped away again.  
  
Three minutes. . . the carriages lumbered into view. Rich people _\--_ couldn't go anywhere without six servants for each of them and ten trunks for every finger. He grinned. Tonight, their loss would be his gain, and they would eat well. Very well. He was hoping there was some Winner wine aboard. He mimicked the owls that sang above him.  
  
The wheel on the second carriage _\--_ the one with the people in it _\--_ broke.  
  
Amid curses from the guards the door opened, and a woman stepped out. "I'm glad," she called over her shoulder. "I needed to stretch my legs."  
  
"You weren't knocked unconscious, Faiza," a boy said, following her out, a hand pressed to his temple.  
  
"You weren't either," she said dryly. "Or if you were, you're setting a record for complaints."  
  
Duo grinned at them as he and the Poet crept into the luggage carrier behind them. They split quickly, he pointing her to where the gold was. She didn't question him _\--_ he always knew. The boy would be complaining a lot more later.  
  
+  
  
"So sick of traveling," the boy moaned. Literally, from the sounds a minute later. Duo winced in sympathy as he relieved the retching boy of a chest of jewelry. Anything to lighten the load.  
  
"My lord, my lady!"  
  
"What is it, Rashid?"  
  
"The wheel _\--_ it didn't break," the guard told them. Duo grimaced. He'd hoped for a minute or two more. The Poet looked to him, and then was gone at his signal. He only hoped that Blood and Zi had _\--_   
  
"And I found this thing in the second luggage carriage," the man continued.  
  
Duo bit back a curse. Zika. She was the scapegoat of the pair, as he was for the Poet. She was pretty and clever enough to free herself, and she made sure to look different each time she went out. As did he.  
  
"Aye, and what of it?" she demanded. "I climbed in at the last inn, I did."  
  
"And helped yourself to a few things, didn't you?" the guard hissed.  
  
Duo dropped noiselessly to the ground and watched from behind the carriage. Zika was standing up from where the man had thrown her _\--_ bastard _\--_ and had apparently decided to go for poor innocent. "I was cold," she said. "I didn't think you'd miss it _\--_ just a bit for warmth."  
  
"We're missing a good half of my lord's wine supply," the guard told his masters.  
  
"T'weren't me!" she protested. "I just had a sip, maybe two _\--_ that was what was there when I _\--_ "  
  
And she was abruptly silenced.  
  
"Faiza," the boy said, "it's not a big deal. We can get more. We've still got the princess's gift _\--_ everything else is unimportant."  
  
Duo snorted softly. Unimportant to blondie would feed them for months, like kings. Like gods.  
  
"She's lying," Faiza said.  
  
"I know that. You know that. You can also see that she has nothing on her except for that trinket in her pocket. Her companions are gone." His voice rose slightly on that. "They aren't still here, skulking around. They've left her."  
  
Duo glared. He never left them behind.  
  
"She's just a girl."  
  
"She's a liar, a thief, and a whore," Faiza said.  
  
Oh, and you wouldn't be, if it saved your hands from being cut off or your throat from being slit? Duo asked her silently. Oh, and you will be, fine lady, when you find a husband with enough money to keep you a comfortable whore all your days.  
  
Her head whipped around. "There's another one here," she said.  
  
Duo heard the boy curse softly. "Faiza _\--_ please."  
  
Zika stood still, her eyes gone vague. Duo, moving quickly to the shadow of the trees, wondered why she didn't run.  
  
"My lady, my lord," another guard said, "we've fixed the wheel. We should move on quickly."  
  
"Let her go, Faiza," the boy said, and his voice crept through Duo like Winner wine. "No harm done, no harm. Let her go."  
  
"Don't you hex me, you little witch," the girl said, but it was said fondly. "All right, but you listen to me, girl." She yanked Zika closer to her. "You're a fool. Thank my cousin for his mercy, for otherwise you would not see another dawn outside a prison." She ran her fingers along the girl's face. "I'll remember you _\--_ if you touch a Raberba again, you'll regret the day."  
  
She let Zika fall to the ground, and marched proudly back to her carriage. The boy knelt for a second, beside her, then followed his older sister. He paused for a second, and looked right at Duo, who found his breath caught in his throat. He knew the boy saw him. But then the boy got into the carriage, and they drove off, leaving Zika crumpled by the side of the road.  
  
Duo waited _\--_ hated it _\--_ but waited, making sure they were gone. He moved to his fallen sister. "Zi, Zi," he said, running his hands over her, trying to make sure she was all right. "Zika."  
  
She was crying _\--_ she hadn't done that in years _\--_ and he felt his chest clench. "Are you all right?"  
  
"No, no," she sobbed. "No, please."  
  
"Zika, it's me. It's Duo."  
  
She looked up at him, blindly, and he almost bit his tongue off.  
  
Her eyes were clouded _\--_ she could not see _\--_ and a long fierce burn lay along her face where the girl had touched her.  
  
Solo stormed into the room. "What the hell is going on?"  
  
"Reberba bitch blinded her," Duo said. He glanced at the door. Zika _\--_ his sweet little sister _\--_ lay in the next room. "Touched her _\--_ that's all _\--_ and blinded her." He sighed and stood next to his brother. "We made out fine _\--_ stole most of the bitch's jewels and Blood found a fair portion of wine. They had gold _\--_ we took some _\--_ and I wished to God I'd slashed her face." He drank deeply of the juice on the table _\--_ no wine, however fine, would cloud him this night. He was not done yet. "And you?"  
  
"Bastard carried almost nothing. One carriage. Two trunks. They heard us before we could get anything." Solo grinned humorlessly. "All in all, not our best night. What will you do about this?"  
  
"I'd kill the bitch in a heartbeat, but I don't know if that would cure Zika or curse her," Duo told him.  
  
"Are we going to send her any presents?"  
  
Duo nodded. "I can think of one or two."  
  
Solo took the cup from his hand and drained it. "Here's to tomorrow working a bit better."  
  
+  
  
"The fact that the king ordered us here and did not even make sure we had safe passage is an insult to me and my Clan," Faiza seethed.  
  
Quatre rolled his eyes. He wanted a bath. He wanted food. He wanted her to shut up. And he wanted to know what the hell he was doing here and what the hell that shadow had been. Human _\--_ it had been human _\--_ it had to have been. But it had flitted in his mind like a shadow and Faiza had only caught a single flash of it. He wondered glumly if all minds in the Capital were like that.  
  
"And he will not even see us!" she said.  
  
"He'll see us when we all arrive," Quatre said, feeling a bit maudlin. He'd n  
  
ever been so far from home before. "Faiza, calm down."  
  
His half sister took a deep breath. "Easy for you to say. They stole my mother's jewels."  
  
"I'll buy you new ones if you'll just calm down." He studied her. "I've never seen you like that before. What the hell did you do to that girl?"  
  
Faiza shrugged. "I just scared her. She'll be fine in a few days."  
  
"If she survives the streets with no eyes," Quatre snapped.  
  
"The bag of gold you pressed into her hand should help," Faiza snapped back, then sighed. "I know, I know. I _\--_ was wrong. I simply _\--_ oh, Quatre, I hate this place." She stared at the ceiling. "It's cold and ugly and my corsets were pinching me quite horribly. I miss home. The minds here _\--_ they're different."  
  
"You were wrong," he said softly. "You cannot act in such a fashion."  
  
"I also cannot allow every petty thief to steal from me," she said. "You Winners with your private army _\--_ you don't understand. Do you know how very much my trade caravans lose to thieves each year?"  
  
"Not even half as much as they did before they joined with Winner caravans," he told her, then sighed and rose. "Both of us need a bath. Too long on the road, my sister, and we both smell like carrion."  
  
She smiled, slightly. "With flattery like that you'll turn all the girls' heads."  
  
Quatre merely smiled and left her. He made a note to himself that girls like flattery. He'd have to think of some really good ones. His eyes slid over a guard standing nearby and his smile turned real. Oh, he'd have to think of some good comments indeed.  
  
+  
  
Heero Yuy, heir of the Odin clan, looked around his room with dissatisfaction. It was so _\--_ so _\--_ soft. There were flowers, and pillows, and heavily embroidered wall hangings. He knew the king was soft, and that the court was devoid of warriors, but this luxury _\--_ he turned his back on it and went to his luggage. A maid had tried to unpack it for him, but he had stopped her. He was no fool _\--_ he knew his room would be politely searched at the earliest opportunity _\--_ but for now he was alone and at peace. The princess's gift he tossed aside. He had only one interest, and that was his father's gift to him.  
  
The sword was exquisite. Forged from the meteor metal, gundam, it shone like the stars it had fallen from. The hilt was perfect, the balance just right, the weight solid in his hand without being too heavy or too light. The blade would slice through anything, he thought to himself, and pressed a finger lightly to it. The resulting blood pleased him. Oh, yes, this was a sword to be treasured, and to be used.  
  
The raven on his shoulder nudged him, and he slowly put the sword away. There would be little room for that at court.  
  
If he wasn't a perfect soldier, Heero Yuy would have cried.


	3. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Relena lingered over her breakfast until her father's minister cleared his throat. "My lady," he said. "The heirs to the Winner, Reberba, Odin, Nataku, and Noin clans have arrived. They have not met, as per your instructions, but have been given everything they need. My lady Faiza of the Reberba is in a fury because all of her gowns were slashed during the night."  
  
"Slashed?" Relena echoed, genuinely surprised.  
  
"Yes, your highness. By what looks to be some sort of scythe. She is quite upset, especially since she was robbed last night."  
  
"So I heard," Relena said. The whole palace had heard. Lady Faiza was already annoying her, and they had not even met. She sighed. "I trust you found adequate wear for her and a dressmaker? At my expense, naturally."  
  
"The Lady Noin offered clothing. The Lady Reberba mocked it, but wore it. It is perhaps best that they have not met yet."  
  
Relena turned her glance to the girl who was clearing her breakfast away. "Your opinions?"  
  
The woman stacked dishes thoughtfully. "Lady Faiza is a spoiled brat, but she is far form home and not used to this place. She may improve. She looked at me strangely, but said nothing. Lord Quatre was quite helpful."  
  
"Helpful?" Relena asked. "As in. . . you found him nice, Sally?"  
  
Her right hand looked surprised, then nodded. "Quite nice, my lady. He thanked me, opened the door for me, and offered to carry everything. He apologized for all inconveniences. Yes _\--_ he was quite nice."  
  
Relena decided to suspect him even more.  
  
"Lord Heero refused all help. He came with few things, but not as few as Lady Meiran. Both are armed."  
  
Relena nodded. "I expected as much."  
  
"Lord Heero bears a fine sword and several knives. Lady Meiran," and here Sally hesitated, "well, I made a list." She reached into a pocket and pulled out several sheets of paper, all covered in her small writing. Relena simply grinned and put the list aside for later perusal. "And Lady Lucrezia?"  
  
"Reserved," Sally said. "But seemingly innocuous. She was quick to offer help when Lady Faiza's screaming reached her. She was somewhat nervous, but I believe they all are."  
  
Relena squinted at her.  
  
"All of them have been traveling for at least a week, Winner and Reberba for almost three," Sally clarified. "They're not so old, Relena, and they have suddenly been ordered away from their homes and their families and all things familiar to entertain a princess they have never met but who could, if they displeased her, make things very difficult for them and their clans."  
  
"I understand, Sally," Relena said, smiling at the older woman. Sally's mother had been her wet nurse after Sally's younger brother and Relena's mother had died a few days apart. Lady Po had been the closest thing she had to a mother, and Sally, three years older but infinitely more grounded, was her closest confidant. "When will the rest arrive?"  
  
"The Lady Wanderer is expected this afternoon," Sally told her, "Lord Dragon and Lord Marquise, and Lady Maxwell in the morning." She looked a bit uncomfortable. "Also, this afternoon, we will be receiving some. . . unexpected visitors."  
  
Relena's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"His Majesty King Treize heard of your Honored Father's plan and sent a few representatives of his own," Sally told her. "We received word this morning that the King's brother in law and his cousin _\--_ who will be the duchess of Kushrenada since he assumed the throne _\--_ will arrive this afternoon."  
  
Relena winced. "More people? I don't know what to do with the ones I've got."  
  
"His Highness Prince Trowa is said to be somewhat unusual, and from all reports her Grace is very similar to her cousin. In both looks and temperament."  
  
"You mean she's manipulative, power hungry, and a royal bitch? So to speak?"  
  
The minister shot the princess a disapproving glare, but Sally grinned. "Sounds about right."  
  
"Wonderful," Relena said, for a minute abandoning the capable princess and just enjoying a good groan. "Just great. Oh, Sally?"  
  
"Relena?"  
  
"Does this duchess have a name?"  
  
"Dorothy," Sally said. "Dorothy Catalonia." The name was familiar, and did not improve Relena's spirits. They said that the girl was at once Treize's closest confidant and the greatest threat to his throne, surpassing even the prince.  
  
"Dorothy of Oz," Relena said. "I can hardly wait."  
  
\+   
  
Catherine Bloom, heir to the Wanderers, was scared shitless. That was why she swept confidently into the palace, dressed like a princess, with Hanako in one arm and Hoshiko beside her. Her guards and her maid followed, the messenger, who had accompanied her back, striding ahead of her. As if he was glad to be done with her.  
  
"My lady, welcome to the palace," a woman _\--_ girl, really, barely older than Catherine herself _\--_ said, sweeping forward. "I am Sally Po, her highness's _\--_ oh!"  
  
Hanako had yawned.  
  
Catherine smiled. "My two companions are rather tired," she said. The woman was still staring at Hanako, so she sought to clarify herself. "The two companions? The messenger said I was allowed them."  
  
"Yes," Sally Po said, a bit weakly. "I had just. . . not expected. . . they're, um, quite lovely."  
  
"Lion cubs," Catherine said. "Their mother was too large to bring."  
  
"I've never seen lions before," Sally Po said, then seemed to remember herself. "I will arrange for food and bedding for them. I'm sure that the stables _\--_ "  
  
"Oh, no," Catherine said cheerfully. "They'll be much happier with me. As for food, just raw meat will keep them fine."  
  
"Yes, my lady," Sally Po said, summoning a servant. "Raw meat will be brought along with your food. May I show you to your room?"  
  
A blaze of trumpets cut off Catherine's answer. "His Most Royal Highness Prince Trowa of Oz!" a herald announced, and Catherine forgot how to breathe. She barely heard the nod to Her Grace Dorothy Catalonia _\--_ she was entranced by the sight of the tall arrogant boy striding in. He skimmed the room disdainfully, his eyes not catching on her. Those eyes. . . so green. . . could it be? "Triton?" she whispered.  
  
The prince's eyes swung back around, and he looked her up and down. The dress she had been so proud of suddenly felt dowdy, and it was, compared with the clothing he and his companion wore. She was aware of Hoshiko on his jeweled leash and Hanako, squirming in her arms, and she must be covered in lion hair. And it was Triton.  
  
"Your highness!" Sally said, rushing forward and sweeping a deep curtsy. "Your grace! You made excellent time!" She glanced quickly at Catherine. "May I present the Lady Wanderer?"  
  
Catherine managed to curtsy, somewhat clumsily. "Your highness, your grace," she said. Triton.  
  
"Lady," the prince said, nodding and then looking around. "We obviously came in the back door," he said disdainfully.  
  
The girl beside him smirked. "Just your style," she whispered.  
  
"We will see the king now," Trowa said, ignoring her.  
  
"Of course, your highness," Sally Po agreed. Catherine watched her escort them from the grand front hall _\--_ the back door indeed! _\--_ and then sat down. Her legs were simply shaking too hard to stand any longer. Surely _\--_ surely _\--_ he could not have forgotten her! Triton! She still remembered how he had cried when his mother died _\--_ when the king had decreed that he must return to his father in Oz _\--_ how he had clung to her and begged her to come with him. And now...  
  
"My lady?"  
  
She raised her eyes to the servant, desperately trying not to cry. "Yes," she said, and realized that she was sitting on the floor. She stood and took a calming breath, and followed the servant to her rooms.  
  
\+   
  
Relena studied the prince covertly as he and her father exchanged pleasantries. She wondered what it was like, being him. She remembered him vaguely, from when he was little _\--_ he had a pet squirrel with him when he had stopped here on his way to Oz. He had let her pet it, but had said little. Now false compliments dripped from his lips like overripe fruit fell from a tree. She reminded herself that since she had seen him _\--_ and it had been ten, eleven years _\--_ he had been groomed for a throne, lost his father, and then lost his throne as the result of a character assassination and a rejection from the people he had considered his own. They said that after his father's death, when he was fourteen, he had taken to excessive drinking and whoring. He was seventeen now, and she thought there was something jaded about him. But, she readily admitted to herself, compared to her, everyone was jaded.  
  
His attention turned to her. "Princess Relena," he said, and kissed her hand.  
  
"We welcome you back, Cousin," she said. She racked her brains _\--_ no squirrel would still be alive _\--_ but he had _\--_ yes. "We have looked forward to your arrival. Tell us, do you still play the flute?"  
  
His eyes went blank, and she wanted to yank her hand back. Only years of training kept her face polite. The cold nothingness that radiated from him was. . . she wanted to cry.  
  
"His highness does not care for music," Dorothy put in.  
  
"That is truly a shame," Relena murmured for his ears alone. She remembered the way he had played the flute, with a loneliness that no seven year old should know, a loneliness that she at five had not understood for years. "We welcome you," she said again, and tugged her hand just a little. He let go and rose from his bow. And thanked her. His eyes were still dark. Relena felt cold and a little scared.  
  
As he and the duchess left the audience chamber she moved Trowa Barton up on her mental list.


	4. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \-----------  
> Warnings: Sex. 3+4 sex, even. What? You're not running away screaming?

Hilde, Lady Maxwell, was the last to arrive, but she did so in grand style. Her smile was genuine, Sally thought, and her entourage impressive. "My companions," she said. "My maid, Anna, and my longtime friend, Duo. Please make them comfortable _\--_ the journey has been long."  
  
Sally eyed the long haired boy dubiously. This was. . . unexpected. Was he the girl's lover? The maid's? A bodyguard, perhaps, she thought, watching he way he walked. She would mention him to Princess Relena. Then she blushed as large violet eyes caught hers and winked.  
  
Hilde had him by the arm. "I just don't know what I'd do without Duo," she said. "He keeps me company. Always has. I was so upset when I thought I'd be leaving him that my father rushed to assure me that he could accompany me." She blinked innocently. "Why, I'd be lost without him." And indeed she clung to him like her lifeline, though she seemed bubbly and confident. Sally noticed that he seemed even more so. He almost bounced as she led them to Hilde's rooms, commenting several times on the art and the décor. He praised her favorite vase, and she smiled at him. He smiled back. Oh, she would definitely mention him to Relena.  
  
Hilde rushed to look around her suite, but Duo lingered by Sally. "So just what is it you do around here, milady?" he asked, making the title sound more like an endearment.  
  
"I help keep things moving," Sally said. "I'm the king's hostess."  
  
"Aren't you rather young for that?" he asked.  
  
"It was my mother's job," she explained. "I took over after she passed away last winter."  
  
He blinked. "I'm sorry for your loss."  
  
She had heard the words, or similar, a thousand times in a thousand voices. Blank courtesy, no more; but something about the way he said it had her throat tightening and her eyes stinging. "I thank you for your kindness," she managed, and blinked rapidly.  
  
He smiled gently. "So I bet you've been real busy lately."  
  
She fell on the new subject eagerly. "Yes, yes, arranging rooms and meetings and dinners and such. I've prepared a schedule for Lady Hilde. I wasn't aware of you, so I'll have to prepare one for you."  
  
Duo flashed her a grin. "No hurry. I'm not anxious. I can go to things if I have to."  
  
"Have you a rank?" she asked him bluntly.  
  
"Who, me?" he asked, looking surprised. "Well _\--_ my father was a sir, I think. Is that right, Hilde?"  
  
"You know very well it is," she said. "His father was a knight, and his mother, Lady Helen, was my grandfather's ward. He has no lands or title, but he's of gentle birth."  
  
"That always seemed like a silly phrase to me," Duo said, winking at Sally. "I mean, from what I hear _\--_ "  
  
"From what you overhear, you eavesdropper," Hilde called out from the room she had disappeared back into.  
  
"From what I hear, birth isn't gentle for even the noblest of ladies," he continued, deepening his voice at the end of his sentence. He winked. "I daresay my mother cursed a bit bringing me into the world."  
  
Sally bit back a snicker and leveled an appropriate glare at him. "I trust you will not speak of such things in her highness's presence."  
  
"Her highness's present!" Duo said, hopping up. "Yep _\--_ we kept it safe. Fought of some thieves least night, didn't we, Hil?"  
  
"Nobody robs a Maxwell," Hilde called back.  
  
"Honor among thieves," Duo mock-whispered. Hilde whirled back out long enough to throw something at him. He caught it easily _\--_ a book from Hilde's collection _\--_ and set it down beside the vase on the table. "So, milady, what do we do around here?"  
  
"Well, there's a general welcome dinner this evening," Sally said. "Preceded by an intimate meeting." She ignored the waggling of his eyebrows and added, "Attended by the Peace Children."  
  
Duo smirked. "Whoever thought of that name had never met Hilde."  
  
"His Majesty chose the name," Sally told him.  
  
"Ah," Duo said. "Forgive me. Do I need to be there?"  
  
Sally studied him and made a quick decision. "Yes. We will expect you and the Lady Hilde at seven. A footman will show you the way."  
  
Duo stretched and stood. "Well, that's a few hours away, and I have a few things I need to pick up. Hilde forgets things very easily," he confided, "and I confess to having left a few essentials behind myself."  
  
"I am sure we can provide you with all you need," Sally offered, but he cut her off.  
  
"Oh, please don't. I've been shut in a coach _\--_ with her _\--_ for almost two weeks. I need a good walk and a bit of air."  
  
"You won't find much fresh in this city, I fear," Sally said, but smiled. "Any footman can show you the way out."  
  
He smiled, again, that slightly crooked smile of his, and pulled a flower from his sleeve. She took it, noting that it matched the ones in the vase beside him, and left.  
  
Oh, she would definitely keep an eye on that one.  
  
It would be no trouble at all.  
  
+  
  
Hilde and Anna, as they had decided to call the Poet, emerged from the bedroom once Lady Sally had left. Duo was staring at the closed door.  
  
"Bit of a sharp one, that," the Poet said.  
  
Hilde whacked her lightly. "Mind that accent. Anna."  
  
"Yes, milady," the Poet said. "What you be thinking, Duo?"  
  
Duo turned with a smile. "I think that the lady Hilde is as beautiful as a rose and as clever as, well, as me! Almost."  
  
"You'd do well to worry more about what my father will say when my maid arrives at home with the rest of my escort," Hilde said.  
  
Duo shrugged. "He'll be sent a letter. I'll see to it." He grinned at her. "All those times we met, and you never told me you were a fine lady."  
  
"And you never told me you were a highwayman," she said. "I thought you lot were a bit above that."  
  
"The Maxwell Clan's private thieves?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You should have known better. We belong to no noble, lady, even one so sweet as yourself."  
  
"And you should have known that my father wouldn't trust negotiations to just any little girl," Hilde said. "Even one so sweet as myself. Surely you didn't think I came to those negotiations twice a year just to play with you?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "That's why I came!" He laughed at the look on her face. "Hilde, Hilde, Hilde, I can find things to steal anywhere."  
  
"Aye and that's the truth," the Poet put in.  
  
"But fun? That, my dear, is a rare commodity."  
  
"Is that why you're here now, cousin Duo?" Hilde asked, batting her eyes.  
  
"Oh, indeed," Duo said. "For the fun that the court ladies wear around their necks."  
  
"If you get me in any trouble my clan will not be pleased," she warned him.  
  
He bowed extravagantly. "Dear Hilde, your name will be as pure when you leave as it is now. At least as far I'm concerned. What you do on your own time is another matter."  
  
"Oh, you!" Hilde said, but she was laughing. "You're hopeless. Go away. Now. Come back with something you can wear tonight _\--_ you'll be meeting royals and nobles and _\--_ "  
  
"Bears, oh my!" he laughed, and was gone.  
  
Hilde turned to the Poet. "I don't know how you put up with him more than twice a year," she grinned.  
  
The Poet ran her fingers over the vase of roses. "You'll be finding out, Hilde, and I fear for you indeed."  
  
The two old friends smiled over the flowers at each other and went to unpack.  
  
+  
  
Quatre didn't care if he was caught and imprisoned or flung off a mountain or tortured or whatever happened to those who snuck away from where the king had put them _\--_ he had to get away. Faiza was nervous and still upset about her dresses and he was half ready to kill her himself. He had excused himself for a minute about half an hour ago _\--_ he only hoped that she wouldn't raise a fuss.  
  
"Ah, who am I kidding," he asked himself, wandering down another passageway in this endless maze. "She'd raise a fuss over anything _\--_ if things were perfect, she'd probably fuss because she had nothing to complain about."  
  
He sighed and looked at his new home. Everything was so. . . gray. The sky outside, the stones that made up the walls. He was used to the sun, to buildings connected by open walkways and courtyards. This cold, dreary place _\--_ he tried to convince himself that he didn't hate it. He wasn't convinced.  
  
He rounded a corner and bumped into a table. "Oh, gods damn it!" he hissed, trying to keep the vase from falling. He reached for it _\--_   
  
And somebody else caught it.  
  
"Careful. That's an old vase. You'd get fired just for looking at it."  
  
Quatre stared at the hands _\--_ long, slender fingers, capable hands, beautiful hands _\--_ holding the vase. He followed them up. And up.  
  
Green eyes, almost hidden by a lock of brown hair, looked back at him. "I, uh, thank you," he said.  
  
The taller boy shrugged and put the vase back on the table. "Can't you do better than that? I just saved your skin. That vase is worth a king's ransom."  
  
Quatre frowned. "I don't _\--_ uh, thank you very much?"  
  
"I bet if I told the housekeeper you'd be let go," the taller boy told him, stepping a bit closer. Quatre could smell a faint hint of alcohol. Faint? Hell, he was about to faint, from the quantity of it. "Are you sure you're supposed to be here?"  
  
Quatre blinked. "Um. . . perhaps not. . . ."  
  
The taller boy shook his head. "So you're wandering the halls, endangering vases, and you're not supposed to be here." The boy looked at the vase, then back at him. "I think you owe me more than just a thank you for that."  
  
Quatre felt himself frown. The vase was hideous. What the hell _\--_ "what do you want?"  
  
"Meet me at the west tower at midnight and I'll show you all about thank yous," the boy told him. "For now, though, just this." And he stepped closer again.  
  
Quatre found himself against a wall, the alcoholic breath of the stranger clouding his brain. It must be, because he wasn't trying to break free, was just watching the boy come closer.  
  
"Who are you?" he gasped.  
  
The boy paused a minute. "Who, me? I'm nobody. . . no name. . . just a jack of all trades. Court drunk. Call me Nanashi."  
  
And then he kissed him.  
  
And then he was walking away, with a tossed "midnight!" over his shoulder, and Quatre was left staring after him with the taste of whiskey and green eyes in his mouth.  
  
+  
  
The damned palace had too many flowers.  
  
He had come to the conclusion that that was the biggest problem.  
  
Sure, the beds were too soft, but he'd managed to get by on the floor. It was almost as firm as his bed at home. The blankets were soft, and they actually had pillows, but, well, one had to make some concessions. That blue blanket was sort of nice, and in a crunch he thought it would make nice bandages. The wall hangings were practical, under all that decoration _\--_ they kept the temperature from getting too cold (even soldiers can't function with pneumonia, after all) and prevented drafts that would make it harder to hear enemies approaching. But the flowers _\--_ they smelled. He kept sneezing. He glanced around the market. This, this was much better.   
  
It smelled of dung and meat and people. Heero allowed a small smile and kept one hand on his purse and the other on the hilt of a knife. Yes, this wasn't bad at all.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of hair shining in the sunlight. He turned _\--_ a warrior is always alert _\--_ and stiffened.  
  
There was a back, a shining braid _\--_ and right in front of that back, deep in conversation with the mouth that he was sure was attached, was a face he had seen the other night. "Thief," he breathed.  
  
"Aye and I'm not! You'll not find prices like this anywhere!"  
  
Heero glanced down at the man who had taken his words as an insult, then looked back up.  
  
They were gone.  
  
He bit back a curse _\--_ must be stoic, after all _\--_ and moved on, keeping his eyes peeled for that dark haired thief. Or for his companion.  
  
+

+  
  
"His Highness Prince Trowa regrets that he is feeling ill after his long journey, and begs your highness to excuse him from tonight's festivities."  
  
Relena nodded, simply, too tired to care. She wondered, idly, what form his illness took _\--_ a pretty serving maid, a handsome guard. From what she had heard, Trowa wasn't too picky _\--_ if it breathed, if it flirted, he would bed it. She dismissed his messenger and looked at Sally, who shrugged.  
  
"I don't have to worry about him forcing any of my people, do I?" Relena asked.  
  
Sally looked surprised. "Not from what I've heard. He prefers his lovers willing. I think it's the only preference he has." Relena sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. "I'm so tired, Sally."  
  
"I know," her friend said, rubbing her shoulders. "I know. Just a few more hours and then you're out of these clothes and off the hook until tomorrow."  
  
"In just a few hours it will be tomorrow," Relena said glumly. She straightened her diadem. "All right. Am I ready?"  
  
"Just one thing," Sally said. "I want you to take a look at Hilde's escort. She brought her best friend with her, it seems."  
  
"Lucky her," Relena muttered.  
  
"He's very smooth," Sally said, and Relena was surprised to see her stalwart friend blushing.  
  
"I'll look out for him," Relena promised. She looked back in the mirror. Even to herself, she looked young. Young and scared. She smoothed the fear away with a thought, but the youth still shone. She was supposed to keep these nine nobles from killing each other, when they were all linked by complicated webs of blood feuds and blood relation. She was supposed to hold the kingdom together with these nine children until her father found the Weapon. Until then. . . she sighed and ordered the fear from her face again. "All right," she said to Sally. "I'm ready." Gods help us all.  
  
+  
  
"So Lucrezia Noin is your cousin but you're never met her?"  
  
"Blood feud," Hilde confirmed. "Very bad."  
  
Duo snorted. "You guys are crazy. Who else are you feuding with?"  
  
"Well, the Noin are allied with the Odin, so we're not fond of the Odin. And we're allied with the Wanderers, but not closely. And we trade with the Winners a lot and the Reberba some _\--_ they're very closely allied. The Marquis are our allies _\--_ they're blood feuding with the Odin. The Nataku and the Dragon don't ally much _\--_ they just fight each other to the death all the time. So we're pretty neutral to both of them, though if it came to a choice it would be the Dragon because of their salt."  
  
"Their dragon salt?" Duo chuckled. "Gods, this is stupider than the soapbox plays, and I always thought that was as stupid as people could get."  
  
Hilde shrugged. "I think it entertains my elders, all the fighting. I think they get bored. The Odin and the Marquise, especially, fight a lot."  
  
"So tonight should be interesting?"  
  
"That's one word for it," Hilde grumped.  
  
"You look beautiful," he told her.  
  
"I should, with what this dress cost," she said, but she smiled at him. "Shall we, milord?"  
  
"As my lady commands," he answered with a mock bow, and led her from the room.  
  
+  
  
Catherine held Hanako close to her, glad that this dress, at least, would show little of her pet's hair. She knew that bringing a lion to a party wasn't exactly proper etiquette, but she didn't care. She needed something.  
  
Triton would be there.  
  
The thought had her almost ready to cry again. She petted Hanako, placed a kiss on the cat's head, ran a hand over the emerald- studded collar. She waited for a second _\--_ they announced her _\--_ and she entered.  
  
He wasn't there.  
  
She stroked her hand over the lion's head again.  
  
"Interesting accessory you got there."  
  
She turned to stare down her nose at the boy who had spoken so casually to her, but his smile was such that she could only smile back. The girl beside her gasped. "He's so cute!"  
  
"She," Catherine said gently. "Her name's Hanako."  
  
"May I touch her?" the girl asked, reaching out a hand, then pulling it back.  
  
"Of course," Catherine said. "She's very tame."  
  
"I'm Duo," the boy introduced. "This is Hilde."  
  
Catherine dropped a curtsy. "Lady Maxwell, my lord."  
  
"I'm not a lord," the boy objected. "I'm just Duo. _Her_ accessory."  
  
Catherine smiled. "I'm Catherine Bloom."  
  
Hilde nodded. "Lady Wanderer." She rubbed the lion. "I should have brought a pet."  
  
"You brought me," Duo pointed out. "Aren't I close enough?"  
  
"I wouldn't insult Lady Catherine or this little one _\--_ Hanako? _\--_ by calling you a pet."  
  
Catherine placed the cat in Hilde's willing arms. "Oh, Hako's not a pet, really. She's being trained to protect me." Hilde shot her escort a glance. "Would that Duo was as useful."  
  
"My sweet lady Catherine," Duo said, shooting Hilde an injured glance, "would you care to dance?"  
  
"I would indeed," Catherine said.  
  
+  
  
The first thing that Heero saw when he entered the hall was a shining braid. He almost froze, then circled the room to get a good look at the. . . boy. . . he had seen before.  
  
Hn.  
  
Later, after they had been introduced to the princess and managed to greet each other civilly, Quatre glanced at the clock. Midnight was only a short while away.  
  
Faiza, with whom he was dancing, held back a gasp as he stepped on her foot. "Quatre!" she hissed.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "Sorry."  
  
To his relief she smiled. "Yeah, yeah. What's eating you?"  
  
Those green eyes _\--_ that mouth _\--_ flashed in his mind. "Nothing."  
  
She didn't believe him, but she let it drop.  
  
He went back to skimming the room for the court drunk _\--_ if he was that. Nothing. His eyes paused on Hilde's companion _\--_ Duo, he was called. The boy glanced up. Their eyes met.  
  
Faiza hissed again. "For gods' sake!"  
  
He apologized again and led her off the dance floor. "I am sorry, Fai. I'm just. . . distracted."  
  
"Yes, well, maybe you should go out on the balcony, clear your head," she said, looking a trifle worried. He felt a pang of guilt for the mean thoughts he'd had about her earlier.  
  
"I think I'll that. If you'll excuse me, lady." He bowed and strode from the room.  
  
+  
  
Duo watched him leave. "He knows," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry?" Sally asked.  
  
"I said," Duo said, "here goes. I'm trying to work up my courage, you see _\--_ to ask you to dance with me. I'm so dreadfully afraid of rejection, though, that I can hardly form the words." Sally laughed. "Then perhaps I should ask you."  
  
"Why, I'm so surprised! Milady, you do me an honor." He took her arm and led her out onto the floor where various nobles made a rather pathetic attempt at dancing _\--_ he thought. He spun Sally, and dipped her.  
  
And almost dropped her.  
  
The Odin _\--_ Heero _\--_ was staring at him.  
  
If I didn't know better I'd say he knows, too, Duo thought, leading Sally around the dance floor. He thought of those expressionless blue eyes. Nah. No way he could know. He slipped through the gardens and found himself at the west tower just as the clock began to strike.  
  
+  
  
"You came."  
  
The voice came from the shadows _\--_ the boy followed before he could pull his thoughts together. "I..." he stammered.  
  
"No, no," the boy chided him, gently. "Just say thank you." He covered Quatre's mouth with his own. He picked the smaller boy up and whirled him around, then pressed him against the tower wall.  
  
Quatre found himself swaying, his back pressed to the cold stone, his eyes on the stars, as the boy slid down his body. He felt his pants open. "Wait," he said.  
  
A hand slid inside his pants. "Wait?"  
  
"What do I call you?"  
  
"I told you. Nothing. No name." The nameless boy began to stroke, softly. Gently. Slowly.  
  
"I can't call you that. Give me _\--_ ah! Something else. . . some, oh, gods, other name."  
  
"Call me. . . Try," the boy said, and took Quatre into his mouth.  
  
He raised a hand to his mouth and bit, hard, into his wrist, unable to stop the gasps and moans that were coming from his body. He'd _\--_ had _\--_ no idea _\--_ none _\--_ never _\--_ "Please," he gasped. The stars were swirling above him, the constellations reshaping into strange new designs, the whole world melting and reforming around him. And then with a gasp it all exploded, him and the stars together, and he drew blood trying not to scream.  
  
The boy _\--_ Try _\--_ slid up his body, his breath warm as it caressed places that Quatre had never known were sensitive before. "And what do I call you, little kitten?" he purred. "Little kitten who roars like a lion when I touch him _\--_ who comes like an animal when I taste him."  
  
Quatre thought that some of the stars must have gotten confused and fallen into him _\--_ he could feel himself shining. "Call me that," he said, strangely daring. "Kitten. Kit."  
  
"Well, then, Kitten-Kat," Try said, and kissed him. He could taste himself _\--_ a strange taste, to be sure _\--_ on the other boy's skilled tongue. He made no objection when he was kissed _\--_ there _\--_ caressed _\--_ here _\--_ touched and licked and bitten, devoured gently by the stranger. He put his hands where the other boy guided them, and found himself stroking the other boy.  
  
"You're beautiful," he said, and tried to kneel himself, but the boy stopped him. "No," Try said, "Not there."  
  
And he spun him again, this time so that his hot flushed face was against the stone tower. And his hands were on him again, and Quatre felt his body open, and the stars began to swirl again.

+

"It could have been worse," Relena decided.  
  
Sally laughed. "Yes. Meiran and Wufei could have actually killed each other instead of just exchanging insults. All night."  
  
"I think they enjoyed themselves," Relena said firmly. "And did you see Heero?"  
  
"Not as much as you did," Sally said dryly. "You barely took your eyes off of him."  
  
"He's _\--_ pretty," Relena said. "Like a piece of art or something."  
  
Sally laughed. "He's a fifteen year old boy. I would wager anything that he's a lot more hormone than artwork."  
  
Relena blushed. "He seemed very restrained." She smiled a bit, up at the stars. "And he danced beautifully." She shot a glance at her friend. "As did that Duo."  
  
Sally laughed again. "Don't remind me. I think I'm still dizzy. Did he have to spin me quite so often?"  
  
"He is slick," Relena observed. "There's something about him, too. I can't put my finger on it, but he. . . I don't know."  
  
"What did you think of the Winner?"  
  
"I barely saw him," Relena said. "He stepped out for air and came back an hour later just long enough to make his excuses. He has a nice smile, but that means little."  
  
"It means he met someone in the bushes, that's what it means," said Sally, who had seen that sort of smile before. Relena blushed again. "I'll keep my eye on him. Not in the bushes _\--_ don't laugh at me! In general. There's something about him, too. . . . The Reberba seemed all right. A little on edge. The Dragon and Nataku seem honest, I think _\--_ I didn't see much that suggested duplicity."  
  
"All the same," Sally said.  
  
"All the same," Relena repeated. "Keep your eye on all of them. Especially Winner and Duo and that Dorothy Catalonia. She's got shifty eyes."  
  
"And strange eyebrows," Sally giggled.  
  
Relena laughed, enjoying the bright chill of the night and the sound of laughter under the stars. "She does at that."  
  
"What of the Marquise?"  
  
"He's my brother."  
  
Sally started.  
  
"I was never sure if that was a story or not. . . I suspected. . . he moves his face the same way that Father does. He's my brother, isn't he?"  
  
"Half-brother," Sally said. "Illegitimate. Those words, Relena, describe a good portion of the worse enemies your throne has had."  
  
"They describe Trowa as well," Relena mused. "We called him Triton _\--_ do you remember? Him and that squirrel and the way he played his flute?"  
  
"I remember," Sally said. "I daresay Lady Catherine does as well."  
  
"That's right _\--_ she's his cousin," Relena said.  
  
"They were quite close before he left," Sally said softly. "He cried for her when he was here. When they saw each other yesterday, she nearly fainted."  
  
"And he?"  
  
"He ignored her."  
  
Relena studied the sky. "What are we doing tomorrow, Sally?"  
  
"There is a weapons practice in the morning, a lunch with the Children, the Cabinet, and your father, and then a state dinner."  
  
"In the afternoon?"  
  
"Between lunch and dinner there is nothing."  
  
"Perhaps we could arrange something. . . a music session. I believe Quatre brought a violin with him."  
  
"And your highness on the piano?"  
  
"I believe, my dear Sally, that would be considered an aggressive act. I am here to prevent war, not start it." Sally smiled at the sky. "I will see to it that his highness is there."  
  
"Thank you, Sally," Relena said, and closed her eyes. In her mind she could see blue eyes looking intently at her. She was not aware of the smile that drifted dreamily onto her face.


	5. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei picked up a sword, testing it. The morning was too bright, he thought. At home in the mountains _\--_ ah, they had mornings just like it. Especially after they had indulged too much the night before. He swung the sword.  
  
"You handle it like an infant," Meiran said derisively.  
  
"Lady, no infant could lift this sword," he retorted. "I doubt you could."  
  
She sneered and picked up a heavier sword. "I can do anything."  
  
"Except make pleasant conversation."  
  
"No reason I should bother, with you. You couldn't tell pleasant anything from pigs."  
  
"I have known pigs more pleasant than you."  
  
"You've known pigs, all right. I hear things about your mother. . . ."  
  
Wufei swung around. "That was not an honorable thing to say. But I suppose there is no honor among swine."  
  
Meiran smirked. "Yep, that's what they say about your mother all right."  
  
Heero permitted a small eye roll and stretched a bow. Sally, beside him, pointed out the wood and the style. He half-listened. Wufei and Meiran bickered, Zechs was examining the swords, Noin was doing quite well against a footman with a quarterstaff. Where was that boy?  
  
"Would you like to try it, my lord?" Sally asked.  
  
"No," Heero said, pushing the bow away. He strode over to the maces and began testing them, his eyes still on the door. Faiza and Quatre appeared. "I'm just a bit sore," Quatre was saying. "Don't fuss. It's probably just the ride catching up with me."  
  
Sally trotted over to meet them. Heero heard something about music _\--_ a violin _\--_ and then Quatre bowed to Sally and left again. Faiza carried a scimitar _\--_ she began to stretch. Heero sighed.  
  
The Lady Catherine appeared, for once without her leonine escort, and began to stretch as well. She was, Heero noted, remarkably flexible. She had a brace of knives at her waist and several more at each wrist. He wondered if she was any good with them.  
  
Finally _\--_ Hilde! Heero moved closer.  
  
The girl slid a glance over her cousin Lucrezia and moved towards the stretching girls. She seemed to be alone. Then she paused, and looked over her shoulder, and frowned. And beckoned. And there he was.  
  
Heero picked up a sword _\--_ not the equal of his own _\--_ and smiled.  
  
"I hate women," Duo muttered, but he followed Hilde into the practice courtyard. It was filled with nobles and their pretty toys. He had a feeling that somebody would take this opportunity to try and beat the shit out of him, and he wasn't sure that fighting back was a good idea. He sighed and looked around.  
  
Ah, shit. He should have stayed in bed.  
  
"You know swords?" Heero asked.  
  
"Not personally, no," Duo said. "I mean, I've heard of them, seen them around, but I wouldn't call us friends or anything."  
  
The boy didn't blink. Or smile. Or anything. "What do you fight with?"  
  
Duo raised his hands.  
  
The boy smiled.  
  
Duo winced.  
  
They got into fighting position. Heero was smiling now, a feral grin that showed far too much of his teeth.  
  
"You're beautiful when you smile," Duo said, just as Sally told them to "start!"  
  
Heero's mouth dropped open. Duo swept his feet out from under him easily and won the first point.  
  
"Hn," Heero threatened.  
  
Duo's smile was fierce. "I love it when you talk dirty to me." This time he found himself on his back, the air gone from his lungs. He stared at the sky a minute, then hopped up.  
  
"That's one for me and one for you, Hee-baby," he said, circling the young lord. Their eyes were locked. "What do I get if I win?" He grinned. "More interestingly, what do I get if I lose?"  
  
"You talk too much," Heero said, his eyes narrowed.  
  
"Not when I have better things to do with my mouth," Duo said, and lunged. Heero sidestepped and tried a well-placed kick, but the boy was like a shadow and somehow behind him. He threw Duo over his shoulder _\--_ with a flick of his braid the boy landed on his feet. "You've got to try harder than that," he mocked.  
  
"I can do harder," Heero promised, catching the boy in a hold.  
  
"I can hardly wait," Duo breathed, and Heero found himself on the ground again, not quite sure how it had happened.  
  
"Well fought, my lord," Sally said, but her smile was for Duo.  
  
"Well fought," he echoed, staring at the victor.  
  
"It was a lucky point," Duo said, tossing his braid over his shoulder.  
  
"We'll have to try it again. Perhaps with swords," Heero said. He didn't like losing _\--_ he wasn't used to it, but the few times he had lost before he had burned with shame. Today. . . he pushed his thoughts aside and took Duo's outstretched hand.  
  
"I'm not very good with swords," Duo said doubtfully.  
  
"And I'm not very good with wrestling," Heero told him.  
  
Duo's grin was flirtatious _\--_ Heero thought. "I could help you out. Give you some. . . private lessons."  
  
"Hn," Heero said, his face impassive.  
  
Duo shrugged _\--_ no skin off his back. He turned and began to walk towards the others, who were watching something else by this time.  
  
"Duo."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
Heero watched those eyes widen inquisitively and wondered. "What about your prize? You did win."  
  
"Oh," said Duo. "Right." He dashed back, then away again.  
  
Heero touched his hand to his lips and wondered harder.  
  
+  
  
"I beg pardon for my cousin's absence, Your Highness," Faiza said, sweeping a curtsey. "He was sleeping quite soundly." He had fallen asleep right after he'd gotten back from wherever it was he'd gone off to this morning while the rest of them had played with weapons.  
  
Relena nodded. "We shall miss him, but we look forward to his presence in the music room this afternoon too much to begrudge him rest."  
  
Faiza thanked the princess and took her seat.  
  
Catherine watched the woman. She was as dark as her cousin was fair, and as exquisite in her way as he was in his. They were a lovely group, these Peace Children of His Majesty's. And, to her way of thinking, the prince they called Trowa was the most beautiful of all.  
  
She wondered what he remembered. If he knew that his eyes were like his mother's _\--_ like her mother's as well _\--_ and that their cousin Vic had hair that fell the same way. She wondered if he still liked animals, still loved music, still drew silly pictures of people he knew. She wondered if he would care that upstairs in her room she had several pictures he had drawn when he was little.  
  
His eyes seemed so dead to her, she thought as she watched him chat casually with the princess. He drank far too much, and his laugh sounded like it was in chains. Her sad gaze must have attracted him, for he looked up, right at her, and then let his eyes wander to her low-cut dress. He smiled _\--_ a bit more suggestively than was polite _\--_ and raised his cup to her. She flushed and looked down.  
  
"You didn't bring the furballs today," Duo said. She was suddenly intensely glad that he sat beside her.  
  
"Oh _\--_ no," Catherine agreed. "I left them in my room. I thought they might be, well," she shrugged, "out of place."  
  
"Things of beauty and courage are never out of place," Duo said, his eyes making his meaning clear, "no matter if they look like beasts or wear the finest fashions."  
  
She flushed again.  
  
"Me, I'm a cat person," he said. "Love them. Some people like dogs, and that's fine, but I figure I'm too much like a dog myself. Friendly, loud, hairy." He tossed his braid as if to illustrate his point. "I like cats, I guess, because I want to be like them. Lean and mysterious and beautiful. But I'm a dog." He grinned, panted a bit with his tongue hanging out, and she laughed.  
  
"Then I shall believe you to be loyal and faithful," she told him.  
  
"Oh, no, don't," Duo said. "I'm not one of those good heroic dogs. Just a mangy cur."  
  
"Man's best friend, at least," Catherine told him. "Or woman's."  
  
"Where I come from we don't say dogs are man's best friends," Duo mused. Across the table Hilde shot him a warning glance but he ignored her. "I always heard that a man's best friend was his right _\--_ "  
  
"Duo, won't you try some of this lovely, um, gray stuff?" Hilde said loudly.  
  
Duo looked at her, then back at his hand, which he had been about to use to illustrate his point, and shrugged. "Sure!" He turned to Catherine again. "That's another way I'm like a dog. I never turn down food." He deliberately licked the gray stuff _\--_ nasty, by the way _\--_ from his spoon with a pout.  
  
If Heero Yuy wanted to watch him, he would get a good show.  
  
Heero followed him into the hall. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.  
  
Duo whirled around. "I _\--_ what do you mean? My sweet cousin Hilde _\--_ "  
  
"Isn't your cousin, is she?" Heero demanded, moving closer. "Though maybe that thief in the markets is."  
  
Duo's smile didn't alter. "I think you may have had too much to drink."  
  
"I'm not stupid," Heero told him softly. "I saw him that night. Were you there, too? How did you convince the lady Hilde to bring a thief into the palace, Duo? Is that your name?"  
  
Raised voices warned of the approach of Wufei and Meiran, who as usual were embroiled in an argument. Duo bit off a curse and swung Heero into the nearest room, looking around to make sure it was empty. He pushed Heero against the door. "What is it you want from me, huh?"  
  
Heero simply stared at him.  
  
Duo moved his pelvis against Heero's. "Is that it? You want me in your bed and you think that making up some story about my cousin is going to do the trick?"  
  
"We both know I'm telling the truth," Heero said, his chin raised.  
  
"Maybe," Duo gritted, "maybe you are. So what? What do I have to do to keep you quiet? Get down on my knees right here? Or kill you? What's it going to be?" He kissed the other boy roughly. "Deep throat or slit throat?"  
  
Heero jerked away. "I want to know who you're here to hurt." Duo pressed his mouth to the other boy's throat. "Is that what you want?"  
  
"I want you to promise me you're not going to hurt anyone here."  
  
A hand slipped down his body. "Are you sure you don't want this?"  
  
"I want to hear you swear your loyalty to the king."  
  
"Don't you want me beneath you tonight?"  
  
"I don't want your body," Heero gasped.  
  
Duo ground against him. "I think you do. In fact, I'm pretty damn positive."  
  
"I don't want any body that gets bartered for safety," Heero gasped.  
  
Duo suddenly swung away. "What the fuck? The whole death before dishonor thing?"  
  
"Sex shouldn't be used to keep you in food or comfort or _\--_ "  
  
"Or in life? What should sex be for, then, Heero, since you know so much about it?"  
  
Heero found himself pinned to the door by those eyes. "Love," he croaked.  
  
"Love?"  
  
"Love."  
  
"Love! Fuck that! I've never been in love, Heero." The name was said in a mocking tone. "But I've been in bed with plenty of people. And hell, yes, I'll have sex to keep myself from going hungry or to keep somebody _\--_ especially me _\--_ safe. If I ever fall in love, I'd fucking proclaim it from the rooftops like the fucking miracle it is, but until then, Heero, I'd just as soon stay safe, healthy, and whole, even if it means I have to fuck my brains out to do it."  
  
He turned again, looking furious. "You know why I beat you this morning, Heero?"  
  
"You said it was luck."  
  
"I lied. I could have kicked your ass in a second. I could do it now."  
  
Heero's hands slipped to the knives he wore beneath his shirt.  
  
"Don't bother." Duo's voice was ice cold. "Or, better yet, why don't you try it? You've never killed anyone, have you, Heero?"  
  
"No," Heero said. He found he was sweating.  
  
"No, you haven't, and nobody's ever tried to kill you, have they? Didn't think so. All your battles have been safe, with people who call you lord and master _\--_ no chance of them slipping a bit, right? You don't know what it's like to fight and know that you're a hair from bleeding to death. You don't know what it's like to see a body and know that you've killed the person who used to be in there. You don't know what it's like to kill, and you don't know what it's like to fuck. So until you do, little boy, don't judge me." He reached out to push Heero aside.  
  
And found his arm tightly gripped. "Are you here to hurt the princess?"  
  
Duo stared at him, then smirked. "You like her?"  
  
Heero was taken aback.  
  
"Haven't you noticed that she likes you?" He leaned a little closer. "Haven't you noticed that she watches you? She thinks you're pretty." His breath was close enough to stir Heero's hair. "Hell, you are pretty."  
  
"Why are you here?" Heero asked, managing to keep his voice level. He thought that maybe this flirtatious boy with his teasing eyes was the most dangerous thing he had ever seen. . . and he thought that maybe he had a better idea, now, of what it was like to know that somebody could kill you in a heartbeat.  
  
"No reason, Heero," Duo said, retreating beneath a smiling mask again. "Have a few drinks, maybe fuck a little. To slip something pretty in my pockets and dance with the princess and slash a few dresses because nobody who goes around taking away sight should look so sweet. No death, no stealing of the crown jewels, no great plot against the crown. Just a little holiday, Heero. And you?" He brushed his hand along Heero's body as he spoke, and then punctuated his last question with a full on grope. He had the pleasure of seeing the other boy's eyes go wide.  
  
"I. . . am. . . peace," the soldier said.  
  
"And I," Duo whispered in his ear, "am death." He kissed him, on the mouth, and then turned and hopped out a window. "See you around."

+

The violin throbbed like a heartbeat in Quatre's hands. Around him they sat, entranced. He played one song, then another. Relena's eyes were closed _\--_ Catherine was crying _\--_ Sally could not tear her gaze from him. He seemed to move with the violin, to cry as it cried and to shudder with it as it screamed in pain. Wufei's hand was clutched lovingly around his sword hilt; Meiran looked to be at prayer. Only Faiza, Heero noticed, seemed at all unmoved, but then, she had probably heard this countless times.  
  
Duo was missing.  
  
Heero stared at the floor, feeling the music move in him like the battle-lust, like the sensations that had ripped through his body when the other boy had touched him. Like the half-remembered songs his mother had sung to him when he was a baby and she was alive. Like a heartbeat, it beat in his chest.  
  
He had never killed a man, but he had been raised to do it. For the first time he wondered what it would feel like. Before Duo he had known _\--_ like finally becoming himself. But now he asked the music, will I hear you when his life slips away? Will I be able to feel you afterward? What will I do when he looks at me and knows that I have killed him?  
  
Across the room Zechs Marquise stared out the window and thought about his father. Lucrezia Noin watched him, and wondered how love and hate existed together.  
  
"You were flat on that last note," a bored voice put in.  
  
They all jumped _\--_ Quatre stopped playing.  
  
Trowa moved from where he lounged in the doorway. "Cheap tricks," he said. "Tell me, do you use that in business?"  
  
"Your highness," Sally said, standing, but Quatre cut her off.  
  
"No."  
  
Faiza stood beside her cousin, and opened her mouth, but he shot her a look and she stayed quiet.  
  
"I don't."  
  
"Really? It would prove so useful, don't you think? And the Winners are so very wealthy. . . so very powerful. . . so very old. Are you all so gifted?" The sarcasm hung heavy in his voice.  
  
"I force nothing on those who hear me," Quatre said with quiet dignity.  
  
"What do you do, then, Kitten?" Trowa asked, resting on a table.  
  
Catherine closed her eyes to try and stop the tears.  
  
"I'm empathic," Quatre said. "When I play, my emotions flow with the music. The same as everyone else who plays with any spirit. Only if I so desire I can make an entire room weep or laugh or scream." He met his lover's eyes. "Today I felt. . . pensive. My music carried that."  
  
"You're a witch?" Dorothy asked from where she had followed her countryman.  
  
"No," Quatre said. "I simply feel things. . . strongly."  
  
"And so does everyone else when you're around," Lucrezia said. "You might have warned us."  
  
"I wonder how good a musician you are without your tricks," Trowa taunted lightly.  
  
"If I played with no emotion, I would be as wooden and dead as. . . well," Quatre said, then stopped.  
  
"As me?" Trowa purred.  
  
"Why don't you play for us?" Catherine said, standing, reaching a hand out towards Trowa.  
  
He studied her for a long moment. "I don't play the violin."  
  
"Perhaps a flute," she said, moving around the couch towards him. . . past him. . . to a cabinet the princess had pointed out earlier. She had thought of him as soon as she had seen the flute.  
  
"Please," Relena said, and that was that. You didn't refuse a princess, even if you were Trowa. He sneered, but picked up the silver flute. Quatre saw the gentleness of his fingers on it and shut his memories off quickly. This was not the man who he had shuddered beneath last night, and again this morning. This man _\--_ Began to play.  
  
It was an angry song, a fiercely lonely and bitter and hating song, and Quatre wondered if he was the only one who felt it. He could not look away, though, could not bear to look away from that straight tall body and that haunted look. Could not see that everyone around him sank back, into their seats, as the first strains attacked them. He could only hold onto his violin and watch the man he had kissed that morning hate him.  
  
Relena wondered if peace could ever be found, if the Weapon that was to defend her country would be used instead to destroy it. Sally thought of her loneliness, of her usefulness, of her worth as measured in deeds done for other who barely noticed. Wufei thought of his honor, and grew angry at all who dared even think him weak. Meiran thought of her family and felt herself growl at the enemies who sat with her, drinking tea like friends. Lucrezia thought of the shameful feelings she had been fostering for those she should only hate; Zechs thought of his father.  
  
Heero thought of Duo. Quatre remembered the brush of hands on his neck, his helpless murmured phrase. I love you. Of the cool response. Yeah, you're not a bad fuck either. He bit his lip. And lifted his violin.  
  
The song changed, became a duet, the flute and the violin lovers, the song their child. Quatre prayed for peace as he played, for love. And Trowa, despite himself, found his eyes drawn to the redheaded girl who sat, gripping her handkerchief, tears unchecked.  
  
Triton, I can't go with you. . . you can't stay. . . but I love you. . . I always will! I'll write you every day _\--_ I'll think of you all the time _\--_ please, Try, please remember that. He cursed, the sound breaking the music, and dropped the flute. "Tricks," he said.  
  
Catherine stood. "Triton," she said.  
  
He looked at her, looked at Quatre, spun furiously and stalked out. Quatre laid the violin down and followed him.  
  
"Try."  
  
"Don't call me that, kitten." The endearment was spat, the words hateful. "Or should I call you Lord Kitten?"  
  
Quatre merely watched him.  
  
"You knew who I was," Trowa accused.  
  
"Of course I did," Quatre said. "I remembered you fondly."  
  
The prince drew back. "What?"  
  
"Don't you remember?" Quatre said, drawing closer. "When we were younger. . . in the summers. . . we would meet at the festival my family held every year. You would come with your animals and I would come with my sisters, and you and I would run off together. Every year we got in trouble. Of course I knew you, the second I saw you. Your eyes. . . haven't changed. The feel of you, in my head _\--_ that's changed, but I still knew you. I thought you knew me, too."  
  
"I don't remember you at all," Trowa denied, but he was lying. He was starting to remember _\--_ cool woods on a summer day. . . a squirrel on his shoulder, a boy's hand in his. . . avowals of eternal friendship. He shook his head. "More of your tricks, kitten?"  
  
Quatre stepped back. "No. Not. . . no. I thought you and I. . . ."  
  
"You thought you loved me?" Trowa asked, beginning to steady. This was familiar ground. "Hasn't anyone ever fucked you before, little cat?"  
  
Quatre met his eyes calmly. "No. Nobody's ever done anything to me that made me feel like I do with you."  
  
"And nobody ever will again," Trowa mocked.  
  
"You play the flute well," Quatre observed quietly, moving closer.  
  
"I play you better."  
  
"Yes, I suppose you do." He raised a hand, slightly trembling, to Trowa's cheek. Then kissed him, softly, on the underside of his chin. "You play me perfectly." He wrapped his other arm around the still boy, who was staring determinedly at the wall. "Encore, my prince. Encore."

+

In the music room it took a minute for them to be able to think again. Catherine rose from her chair, Hanako in her arms again, and picked up the flute. The lion batted at it, but Catherine didn't notice. She took a deep breath and wiped the last of the tears away.  
  
Faiza, unused to being prey to anyone's emotions, rose. Before she could leave, however, Sally put a hand on her arm. "Perhaps you'd better tell us a little more about your cousin." She studied the girl for a second, then added, "and about yourself as well."  
  
Zechs Marquise strode from the room in a different direction than the one Trowa and Quatre had taken. Relena watched him go, then turned to hear Faiza speak. Wufei looked at Meiran's hand: she had dug her fingernails so deeply into it that she bled. He fumbled for a handkerchief, then remembered that he never carried one, so he removed the silk band from his waist and wrapped it around her hand. Meiran sat as if afraid to breathe.  
  
Heero looked over them, then ducked out the window. Flowers and music. The palace had too much of both.  
  
+  
  
Zika smiled brightly at Duo. "Aye and I'll be fine in a day or two, I think. It's all starting to come back, a bit better each day."  
  
He studied her. She was putting on the cheer a bit, but she wasn't lying. He nodded, satisfied. "I'm glad. What did that bitch do to you, Zi?"  
  
She shrugged. "Gods only know. I just got sort of trapped, in my head like, and couldn't think clear. It was like she knew everything about me, Duo, everything I'd done in me life. And most of it she thought wrong."  
  
"Her kind don't know much about real life," he said gently.  
  
"No, but they know a thing or two about clothes," she said, and touched the necklace around her neck. "She might have taken my eyes for a few days, but I'll have this bauble for as long as I like."  
  
He whistled as he appraised the sapphire. "Aye and that'd keep you warm and fed for a year at least."  
  
"Aye, but it'll keep me pretty for a bit first," she said with a laugh. "Blood says it makes me look like a queen."  
  
"Aye and he's right," Duo said, and brushed a kiss across her cheek.  
  
"Duo?" she said as he was about to leave.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You needn't send him after her. I'll be fine."  
  
Duo shrugged. "He already went, Zika."  
  
She smiled a bit then. "I can't say as I'm sorry."  
  
Duo shut the door behind him. "I can't say as he is either."

+

Quatre gingerly prepared himself for that night's dinner. Trowa would be there.  
  
"I never thought you of all people, Quatre Raberba Winner, would do that type of thing," he told his reflection. He thought of the way that Trowa had touched him, there in an empty library not two (unlocked) doors down from the princess and the Children. Of the way he had moaned and writhed and touched Trowa back, all the time knowing that he was little more than a willing body to the other boy. He hadn't cared. He still didn't. And that wasn't like him.  
  
"I'll take what I can get," he whispered to his reflection, to the angelic countenance on the nicest boy anybody had ever met. "All nine inches."  
  
The angel in the mirror winked.  
  
"My lord Quatre!"  
  
He glanced up curiously as Rashid burst into the room. "Rashid. What is it?"  
  
"Mohammaed. . . a messenger from your father."  
  
Quatre straightened. "What's wrong?"  
  
"The caravans. . . seven of them. . . gone."  
  
\+   
  
"Poe! Poe! Anna, whatever! I'm late, can you help me?"  
  
"If you're looking for the maid, I sent her away."  
  
Duo, climbing in the window, dropped to the floor and came up in a crouch with a knife in each hand.  
  
Quatre simply watched him. "You've been gone a while."  
  
"Shouldn't you be at the dinner?"  
  
"I've been excused. Family problems."  
  
"Is that so?" Duo said, putting on a grin. "Three weeks from home and you're still plagued by `em. Got a big family?"  
  
"A rather talented one," Quatre said. "You missed my musical show this afternoon." He made a move as if to brush that aside. "That's not the point. The point is this. I received a message from my family today. Seven of our caravans have disappeared without a trace."  
  
Duo's eyes widened. "That's a hell of a lot of goods."  
  
"Not to mention people," Quatre added quietly. In the dark he stared at his feet and wondered what was happening to his people while he'd been getting the brains fucked out of him.  
  
"I'm sorry, my lord," Duo said. "Is, uh, there something I can do?"  
  
"Yes," Quatre said. "You're a thief. You can tell me who did this."  
  
Duo froze, then sighed. "God, everybody's seeing through me these days!" He dropped into a chair, and, as an afterthought, put away the knives. "Why should I help you, after what your bitch of a cousin did to my sister?"  
  
Quatre looked surprised. "Is she? Your sister?"  
  
"Close enough," Duo growled.  
  
"You can help me because if I hadn't been there the blindness wouldn't be wearing off. At least not this year, and maybe not any other."  
  
Duo whistled. "She really is a bitch."  
  
"Sometimes you have to do what you can _\--_ no matter what it is _\--_ to prevent future damage. Like having seven caravans disappear." He sighed again. "One of my sisters was part of one of those caravans."  
  
"You have a sister?" Duo asked.  
  
"Twenty-nine," the boy confirmed.  
  
"And you're going to miss one?"  
  
Quatre glared at him. "I want to know who did this. And why."  
  
"I don't do charity work," Duo said.  
  
"You won't do any work if the king finds out that you robbed my cousin and I. And that you've been terrorizing her."  
  
"The king couldn't catch me."  
  
"The Winners could." Quatre's smile was without humor. "Unless of course you like running every day of your life, never having enough to eat or a safe place to sleep, not being able to steal more than enough to scrape by on because every fence in the world is waiting for you to walk in the door. Unless you like being chased by bounty hunters who only have to bring you in still breathing to get the bounty of a lifetime."  
  
A muscle in Duo's face tensed. "And here I thought you were a nice guy."  
  
"I am," Quatre said softly. "That's why you're not being chased right now."  
  
"I'll see what I can do," Duo said, and slipped back out the window.


	6. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \--------------  
> warnings: ORIGINAL CHARACTER DIES!!!!! Please be warned! Didn't bother me a bit to knock it off, but if it bothers you, go read something else! Also has sexual stuff--2x1, 3x4--sympathetic Relena (sort of), non- sympathetic Solo and Dorothy, language, betrayal, and other Fun Stuff including a cheap ending (I despise cliffhangers on principle. I'm still trying to figure out why I keep using them. . . .)

The shopkeeper looked up as several nobles entered his shop. He put on his best smile. "My lords, my lady, please come in!" He could smell a killing from across the room.  
  
The pretty blond boy with the aqua eyes and the very expensive clothing ran his hand across a bolt of fabric. "It's so soft!" he exclaimed. "Feel it!"  
  
The boy with the long braid _\--_ the shopkeeper looked at the pair for a minute and then smirked _\--_ mimicked the boy's movement. "Nice," he said. "Hilde, what about this one?"  
  
The girl yawned disdainfully. "I want to impress the man, not scare him off!"  
  
The blond looked back at the bright fabric. "I suppose it is a bit. . . bold."  
  
"But it would look lovely with milady's coloring!" the shopkeeper put in.  
  
"I like it," braid boy said.  
  
The girl relented enough to touch it. "It feels nice," she admitted, "but the color. Haven't you anything a bit. . . more subtle?"  
  
The boys were peering at various swatches. "It has to be blue," one said.  
  
"But not too dark," the other said.  
  
"And it has to look expensive," Lady Hilde said decisively. "I may be a merchant's daughter, but all that means is that money is my strength. I have to make him remember why he's looking my way."  
  
"Yes, because it's better than looking at his pile of debts!" the braid laughed. "I suppose even your face is better than the tax collector's!"  
  
The girl turned haughtily from him. "Have you any other fabrics?" she asked.  
  
He thought of the shipment he had received only two days before. . . they had told him to hold off on selling it for a while, but surely. . . . "As a matter of fact, milady, I have just the thing."  
  
"I hope so," Hilde said acerbically.  
  
"It is. . . rather costly. . . ." he warned.  
  
"Good," she said, and that was that. He went to the back and found the bolt he was looking for. The blond boy looked at it closely.  
  
"Yes," he said. "This is it."  
  
And the shopkeeper found himself shoved up against the wall with a blade at his throat. The braided boy wasn't grinning anymore. "Why don't you tell me where you got this?" he said conversationally. And then he grinned.  
  
The shopkeeper wet his pants. And told.  
  
+  
  
"Hilde's going to fuss for hours because we didn't take her with us," Duo observed, trying to get something out of Quatre. The other boy had been all but silent since they had finished with their last informant.  
  
"I suppose," Quatre said, not really listening.  
  
"So did that mean anything to you?" Duo asked bluntly. "Those dates _\--_ those towns."  
  
"Yes," Quatre said. "Those are the days I passed through those towns, or near them.  
  
Duo took a deep breath. "I see. So where are we heading?"   
  
He looped a sympathetic arm around the boy who, in the space of hours, he had come to call friend.  
  
Quatre looked at him with miserable eyes. "Back to the palace to talk to my cousin."  
  
+  
  
Trowa watched them enter the palace from the now empty music room, arms around each other. He said nothing, just stepped back from the window. And slammed his hand into the wall.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was here," a timid voice said.  
  
He turned to face her. "Well, here I am."  
  
She began to stammer something, to back out, but Hoshiko chose that second to dig his claws into her arm and she found herself swearing instead. Trowa took pity and came over to help her disentangle herself from the cub, and found claws in his arm as well.  
  
"Oh, you brat!" Catherine exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Try, he just has to learn better _\--_ you let go now! Now!"  
  
"My name is Trowa," he said.  
  
"Yes," she said, looking up then away, quickly. "I suppose it is." She held out her hands for the cub but he turned away.  
  
"His claws are in my sleeve," he said. He walked back over to the light.  
  
She followed him, Hanako prancing behind her. Her heart was pounding, but she wasn't sure what to say. Were they pretending they had never met before? What game was this and why wouldn't he just look at her?  
  
"He's feisty," Trowa remarked.  
  
"He takes after his mother," Catherine said. "Bunny. She was the first cub I was given."  
  
He'd named her, too, because he'd wanted a rabbit and when they'd gotten Bunny he'd taken a few days to come around. And then it had been the three of them, plus a handful of other animals, running around like wild things all through the glorious summer. Winter had come too quickly that year, and with it the sickness that had killed Trowa's mother.  
  
"Don't you mind living with so many animals?" he asked her, his tone bordering on insult.  
  
"Better than living with so many people," she said.  
  
She thought he almost smiled at that. "At least people you can fuck."  
  
She shrugged. "You can do that with animals, too, if you're not too particular. I've got a cousin who seems a little too fond of his cows, if you ask me. Course, if I had his wife, I might be like that too. And the cows are right fond of Jand, too, so it seems to work out well all around."  
  
"Not for his wife," he said.  
  
"Oh, Lil takes extra special care of the bulls," she explained, delighted to see his lips twitch.  
  
"And as for my mother," she added deliberately, "there are those who say she's overfond of animals herself."  
  
He stiffened, a bit.  
  
"I'm grateful for that, though, because if she wasn't so fond of animals she never would have married a beast like my father, and then where would I be?"  
  
He glanced over. "You're an only child?"  
  
"Yes. . . I've got cousins, though. My mother's brother's children. They're all young and plentiful _\--_ his wife just spits them out _\--_ and completely out of control. But that's how children should be, I think."  
  
"What do _\--_ what are they called?"  
  
"Oh, there's Jen and there's Ilya and Graj and Hark and Rayve and Brec, and they run wild all over the place. Just before I left, Ilya and Graj decided they were going to see what happened when one put clothing on a lion. Not a cub, mind you _\--_ the cubs will put up with it. With a full grown lioness, they tried."  
  
"Why do you have so many animals?" he asked her.  
  
She blinked, thought for a minute. "Well, we're a farming clan, and that has something to do with it. The lions, though, they were my father's. He traveled with a circus. One day he met my mother, the Heir, and decided to give them to her as a wedding gift. She took a bit of convincing but he talked her round right soon enough and before long there was me, and. . . I took to them. So we started breeding and training them not just for shows but for guards _\--_ they're not pets, so they tell me, and it's true they can maul you as soon as purr for you, but I love them. And all the other animals. We've got all kinds. I feed the squirrels, every morning," she said, and faltered, aware that she was babbling.  
  
"Does anyone feed them now that you're gone?"  
  
"Ilya said she would, but I made my mother promise to help her, because otherwise she'd forget."  
  
"So she made it through the experience of dressmaking for a lion?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Catherine said, and launched off into the story. It was followed by another, and another, and she watched the smile creep onto his face. It looked real.  
  
She was quite annoyed when a servant burst through the door. "Your highness. . . my lady. . . the princess. . . commands your presence."  
  
"Do they not teach you to knock in this godsforsaken country?" Trowa asked, glaring at the man.  
  
"Your highness, forgive me," the man said, trying to catch his breath. "It is the Lady Faiza, the Raberba."  
  
"Did someone slash her dress again?" Trowa asked cuttingly.  
  
"No, your highness, no. The lady. . . she's been killed."  
  
+  
  
Heero knelt over the body and shut her eyes. "May your spirit fight forever," he whispered.  
  
Relena had retreated in hysterics; Sally Po was calmly questioning the servants, but, Heero noticed, she took care to look anywhere but at the dead lady. He wished he could run his hands over her throat and close the gape there. He stood quickly and turned away.  
  
"No, milady. Last night she left orders. . . not to be disturbed. . . the first time anyone came in here today was when her highness came. . . ." The maid was in tears. Faiza had not been loved but nor had she been hated. She had simply been killed.  
  
Quatre burst into the room. "Fai! Fai! What is this _\--_ oh, gods." The weeping boy knelt by her body and took her cold hands in his.  
  
"Quatre," Duo said softly, following the boy into the room. "Shh. C'mon."  
  
"No, no," Quatre said.  
  
Heero walked over to Sally. "I don't think that Maisie needs to see this."  
  
The maid, whose name was Millie, shot him a grateful glance. "No," Sally said, studying him, "of course not. "Come on, Millie, and I'll get you some tea."  
  
As soon as the door was shut behind them Heero had his hands around Duo's throat.  
  
"You're a liar."  
  
The braided boy shook his head, then kicked out. Heero grabbed his groin and bent over. "Easy shot, Heero," Duo said scathingly. "And I'm not. I run and I hide and I survive but I don't lie."  
  
"You're lying right now," Heero gasped. "Does Quatre know that you're not really any relation of Hilde's?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, he does," Duo snapped.  
  
"And I should believe you?"  
  
"Because he has better things to do right now than to answer your stupid questions!"  
  
"I know who Duo really is, Heero," Quatre said dully from beside the body.  
  
"You know he's a thief and a killer?"  
  
"I know."  
  
"You know he's the best suspect?" Heero said.  
  
"Especially since he's the one who slashed all her clothes and her bed and broke her mirror and so on and so forth," Quatre answered, rising.  
  
Heero had not known that.  
  
"But I know why he did it, too, and who he did it for," Quatre said, turning away. He looked awful, Heero realized. The boy known for being pretty looked like hell, not even warmed over. Just cold. And dead.  
  
"I didn't do it for anyone!" Duo said quickly. "Just for myself."  
  
"Nobody's going to do anything to the girl, Duo, don't worry," Quatre said. "Or to you. I know you didn't kill her."  
  
"How do you know?" Heero asked.  
  
"Yeah," said Duo, "how do you know?"  
  
Quatre looked surprised. "Because you said so. And I'd know if you were lying."  
  
"Everyone's going to be looking for the person who trashed her rooms," Duo said. "I should split."  
  
"That would be stupid," Heero said. He felt his neck grow hot as they turned to look at him. "They'd think you did it," he explained.  
  
"I didn't kill her," Duo said. It was almost a whisper.  
  
"I know," said Heero. And he was surprised to find that he did.  
  
"So who did?"  
  
+  
  
Relena emerged from the meeting with her father feeling worse than ever. The stakes had just risen, dramatically. She looked at the Children _\--_ no, no, at the people _\--_ before her.  
  
"I brought you here for peace," she said. "Instead I find that my actions have brought about death."  
  
"Don't be silly, Relena," Sally said quickly. "You didn't kill her."  
  
"If she'd stayed at home she might still be alive," Relena said.  
  
The door opened and Quatre, Heero, and Duo walked in. The group was complete.  
  
"Quatre, we're all sorry for your loss," Relena said, tossing the words off easily. "But I must know _\--_ do you have any idea what this is about?"  
  
"I uncovered evidence today that seemed to point towards my cousin as the, well, as the," he sighed again.  
  
Trowa checked himself. He would not comfort him. Not here. Not now.  
  
Duo draped an arm around the blond. "What he's trying to say is that Faiza was part of the plan to steal the Winner caravans. We have reason to believe that the Raberba Clan was in some way behind recent troubles plaguing the Winners."  
  
"Those weren't the first caravans to disappear," Quatre said, "and that was why my sister was with one. We knew we could find her, even if we couldn't find the goods. The fact that we cannot reach her in any way makes it fairly certain that she's dead." His voice broke; he paused and then went on. "We've also had a lot of bad rumors _\--_ that we've backed out on deals, that we've double crossed, that we care more for our Clan than our country. That we're scheming with Winners in other countries to take over the world." He looked up. "I don't want the world, your highness. I don't want this country. Right now I don't even want _\--_ " he broke off.  
  
"We were waiting for a return message from Quatre's Clan before we confronted Faiza," Duo said. "And then we heard she was dead." He looked uncomfortable.  
  
"We're also convinced that whoever killed the Lady was not the same person as whoever destroyed her property," Heero said.  
  
"Why is that?" Sally demanded.  
  
Heero looked at her levelly. "I can't tell you that."  
  
Hilde was silent.  
  
"Besides the fact that her throat was slit with a knife, not with a scythe," Duo said.  
  
"How do you know that?" Wufei asked.  
  
Duo shrugged. "I looked. Looks totally different. Scythe, unless it's two inches tall, has a different shape. It goes into flesh differently. A knife skims along the surface, usually deeper on one side depending on which hand was used. A scythe cuts deepest in the middle. Even if you twist it."  
  
"I'm going to be sick," Noin said, and left the room hurriedly.  
  
Duo winced. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I think we're all curious about your expertise, Duo," Sally said flatly.  
  
"He's an assassin," Hilde said, staring at the ceiling. "He kills with the scythe."  
  
Heero stiffened.  
  
Duo shot her a betrayed glance. "Hilde!"  
  
"It was a joke," she said, "for fun. He wanted revenge on her for something. But he didn't kill her."  
  
"How do you know that?" Relena demanded.  
  
"Because he doesn't kill for fun," Hilde said. "And nobody paid him."  
  
Duo shut his eyes, feeling like he'd been gutted himself.  
  
Hilde was crying. "He didn't kill her."  
  
"I'm glad that you think so, Lady," Relena said coldly.  
  
"No _\--_ I know it!" she wept. "Shinigami doesn't kill like that."  
  
Relena's head swiveled around to look at the braided child in front of her. "You are the one they call Shinigami?"  
  
Duo's eyes had gone flat. "You could say that. Aye, that's me."  
  
"But he's not," Hilde protested. "He's Duo. Shinigami's just. . . the one who kills."  
  
"Death," Relena said levelly.  
  
"Aye, lady," he said. "Death."  
  
Noin reentered the room, her face white. "Your highness, the people. . . they say that if the Lady is dead, and killed here, then there's something wrong with the Weapon. They say we're unprotected. They're filling the audience rooms, your highness, demanding to be shown the Weapon."  
  
"Is that so?" Relena asked. "Well, we'll show them something, all right. I want him in chains," she said, gesturing towards Duo. "I want the murderer in chains."  
  
"Your highness, he is not the killer," Quatre said, jumping to his feet.  
  
"Yes, well, perhaps we should send you with a violin instead?" the princess snapped.  
  
"Your highness, I, too, stand for Duo," Heero said.  
  
"I have declared him guilty," Relena said. "If you stand for him, you stand against me."  
  
"Then Winner and Odin will stand together," Heero said simply. "He is innocent."  
  
"Raberba as well," Quatre added. "For I find that I am now the heir to that Clan as well, through my mother."  
  
Trowa stood, not entirely sure, but. . . "I stand with them."  
  
"You count for little here, prince," Relena said dismissively.  
  
"He is my cousin and if he stands, the Wanderers stand," Catherine said, coming to her feet beside him. He looked at her, surprised, and then linked his arm with hers.  
  
"Maxwell stands for her people, and Duo is ours," Hilde said quietly.  
  
"Five of my nine clans," Relena said, amazed. Hurt. Betrayed. "And the rest of you?"  
  
Wufei thought of the conversations he had had with them, all of them, and stood as well. Between them there flashed something _\--_ Heero _\--_ Duo _\--_ Trowa _\--_ Quatre _\--_ Wufei _\--_ as if they were all part of something. "I stand."  
  
"And what, I pray you, do I tell my people?" Relena asked.  
  
"With all due respect, your highness, that is up to you," Heero said. Looking at him, Relena felt her heart crumble. "We merely refuse to let you sacrifice him for your peace of mind."  
  
"He is a killer," she said, pausing at the door. "Perhaps not the Lady Faiza, but he has killed a countless number."  
  
"That does not mean you can throw him to the people," Heero said.  
  
Relena turned, and, with great dignity, left the room. She was followed by Sally, Noin, and Zechs.  
  
"I'm never going to see you again, am I?" Hilde asked, her voice a scratchy whisper.  
  
"I can't risk it," Duo said.  
  
"You can't risk leaving right now, either," Heero told him. "Relena could change her mind, with you gone, and you'd endanger whoever you were near. Whoever you were trying to protect in the first place."  
  
"My sisters," Duo murmured. He placed his head in his hands, then looked up wildly. "Hil _\--_ Poe _\--_ gods!"  
  
"I think I may faint," Hilde said, looking stronger than ever. "Ring for my maid!"  
  
Heero rolled his eyes. "Subtlety," he said. "It's a good thing. Try it sometime." He pointed to Duo. "You don't go off. Anywhere. You need a reliable alibi with you at all times."  
  
"You volunteering?" Duo said, only a hint of his usual flirtatiousness in his voice.  
  
Heero studied him. "Wufei and I will take turns."  
  
"You'll wear me out!" Duo protested.  
  
Wufei flushed. Heero ignored him.  
  
Quatre rubbed his head. "And I _\--_ "  
  
"You need a bodyguard, too," Heero told him. "You've got the strongest connection to her _\--_ you're Heir now that she's gone. You'd do well to stay in well-populated areas as well."  
  
"I could be his bodyguard," Trowa said, no mockery in his voice for once.  
  
"You're from Oz," Heero said, then reconsidered. "All right. You'll do."  
  
Quatre exhaled. "I need something for this headache, and I need to contact my father. If you will all excuse me." He left, followed by Trowa.  
  
"So what do we do now?" Hilde asked, her voice small.  
  
"We find the real killer," Meiran said. They looked at her; she flushed. "I was not sure before. . . I stand with you now."  
  
"Why would anyone want to kill her?" Catherine asked.  
  
"I can think of a few reasons," Duo said, then gulped. "Guess I shouldn't say stuff like that."  
  
"Maybe not," Wufei said. "Idiot."  
  
"I have another question," Catherine said. "The Weapon. . . it's said to protect us in the castle. Why didn't it?"  
  
As one they headed for the Chamber of the Weapon. They entered the chamber slowly, quietly, aware that they were in the presence of a god.  
  
It lay on a velvet cloth, simple and shining. Duo started, fell back. Heero caught him.  
  
"I didn't know," he whispered. "It. . . I didn't. . . ."  
  
The silver was in the form of a scythe.  
  
+

Duo leaned against Heero on the way to his rooms. "At least it's still there," he offered weakly.  
  
Heero looked at him as he opened the door. "Was it? I'm not so sure."  
  
+  
  
Hilde and Catherine rushed into Hilde's rooms, calling out frantically. "Poet! Poet!" There was no answer.  
  
+  
  
Trowa pretended to be asleep when the blond next to him began to cry, but after a few minutes he sighed and pulled him closer. And kissed the top of his head. "Kitten," he said, softly. "My kitten."  
  
+  
  
Wufei examined the body. "She's been dead for hours." Meiran agreed. "I'd say midnight."  
  
"I'd say two a.m."  
  
"I'd say small knife. At midnight."  
  
"I'd say knife about the size of my forearm. At two in the morning."  
  
"I think she was asleep."  
  
"I think she was standing up."  
  
Meiran glared at him. He smiled politely back.  
  
+  
  
"She was a bitch," Duo snapped. "She was betraying Quatre and cheating for profit. She had bad taste in manners and good taste in clothes. I don't know why the hell someone would kill her!"  
  
"Why didn't you?" Heero asked.  
  
"Because I don't need that kind of aggravation," Duo growled. "Going through all this."  
  
"If you had killed her you would be long gone. Far away from all of this."  
  
"Aye, and a good bit richer as well. But I didn't."  
  
"I know," Heero said, putting down his pen and walking over to Duo. He placed his hands on the other boy's shoulders. "I know." He paused a minute, then went on. "When I saw her today _\--_ I've never really seen people killed by violence before. Hell, I'm supposed to be a soldier, but I don't know anything about real war. Like you said, sex and death are real, and I'm just a spoiled kid."  
  
"That's not what I said," Duo murmured, a little bit totally entranced by Heero's eyes.  
  
"I learned a little bit about death today," Heero said, "and I was hoping. . . maybe. . . you could teach me a little about sex tonight."  
  
Duo snorted softly, shook his head. Cursed. Then jumped the boy.  
  
+  
  
Dinner that night was a subdued affair, lacking the pageantry that had characterized the previous dinners. Relena had kindly requested that Duo not be present; she had not anticipated that this would keep her from the pleasure of Heero's company as well. Instead she sat between Prince Trowa and her Grace, Dorothy Catalonia.   
  
Dorothy kept asking questions about the death; Trowa provided her with no escape. He seemed completely distracted by something or other. Relena followed his gaze to where Catherine and Quatre sat. The Winner's arms were full of lion cub _\--_ he and Catherine talked earnestly.  
  
Relena bit back a scream. She felt so trapped. And so alone. Five of her clans had stood against her _\--_ what kind of queen would she be? Would she even have the chance? And if she did _\--_ she would be queen over these nine clan lords _\--_ eight now _\--_ who alternately fought with each other, fought with each other more, and _\--_ catching a look that Quatre threw at Trowa _\--_ fell into bed with her enemies.  
  
She didn't trust Winner, now more than ever. Sure, he seemed nice _\--_ but if he could affect their feelings with a violin, possibly without one, could she trust her feelings where he was concerned? He had obviously had some inkling of Duo's true identity, and had defended the boy against her.  
  
So had Heero.  
  
Two dances and a few minutes polite conversation does not, can not, mean true love, she chided herself. She did not think of herself as one of those silly girls who, after catching a glimpse of a handsome face on some deserted beach or somewhere, went around the world like an obsessive lunatic just to follow that boy. And nothing could have ever come of it, either _\--_ she could not afford to show favor to one clan over another. No monarch could. . . wasn't the fact that she had never before this week met Zechs Marquise proof of that? And yet. . . she had hoped, had found her life feeling a little less confining just because of those daydreams. She had not been foolish enough to imagine any reciprocal feelings on his part _\--_ or so she had told herself until he had stood against her. She lifted her wine glass and took a bigger sip than was strictly polite.  
  
"I hear the servants are refusing to enter the lady's room," Dorothy remarked, watching Relena with eager eyes.  
  
"Do you?" Relena replied noncommittally.  
  
"And I hear that there are pools being run in the kitchens. About who did it, and about how long it'll take to find them."  
  
"Is that so?" Relena murmured. Really _\--_ duchess or no, the girl had little sense of decorum. Of good taste. Of humanity.  
  
"They also say that a lot of people weren't convinced by your father's speech this afternoon," Dorothy said.  
  
Relena turned _\--_ quite rudely, to be sure _\--_ to Trowa. "Your highness, would you care for some of this rabbit?"  
  
Trowa started, but recovered quickly. Giving her a seductive smile _\--_ she was almost positive that it was merely habit _\--_ he declined politely, adding, "I've always been too fond of bunnies _\--_ rabbits _\--_ to find them good food."  
  
Which left Relena with a plateful of bunny rabbit. "I see," she said.  
  
Trowa shrugged gracefully. "I always found the way that they hop sort of endearing. . . and how they twitch their noses. . . ."  
  
"I am afraid that I have not had much experience with live rabbits," Relena managed. And thought of how peaceful Faiza had looked, with her eyes closed, when Relena had been to see the body. There had been almost a smile to her lips. Relena set her fork down. "Have you seen my father's menagerie yet?"  
  
"I have not had that honor." For once there was no faintly mocking undertone to his voice.  
  
Relena stood. "I shall take you there at once. If you will excuse me, Your Grace." She knew she should have included the duchess in the invitation, but she found herself unable to face the girl's company.  
  
"Of course, your highness," Dorothy said, lifting her glass in a mocking toast.  
  
Trowa offered her his arm _\--_ she took it gratefully _\--_ and they swept from the room.  
  
Fifteen minutes later they paused in front of another cage. "More birds," Trowa said.  
  
"My father doesn't like keeping large animals in such small cages," Relena said.  
  
"I'm not much for cages myself," he said, staring intently into the cage. "Look _\--_ there. It's beautiful." He glanced over at her. "Are you feeling any better?"  
  
Embarrassment hid behind formality. "I'm quite fine, Cousin."  
  
"You're lucky you left when you did," he said, ignoring her. "Dorothy would have gotten detailed in a minute." Relena whitened; Trowa frowned. "You wouldn't last ten minutes in the Oz court. Dinners there frequently contain all sorts of mean little tricks meant to make rivals _\--_ and friends _\--_ lose face."  
  
"I'm sure I don't know why anyone would wish to live there," she said, and regretted her words a second later.  
  
He turned back to the birds. "It's not a matter of choice, Cousin. It's a matter of survival." There was a bitter smile on his face. "Dorothy's something of a master at it. My dear brother finds her quite amusing."  
  
"Your dear brother," she said, echoing his sarcastic tone, "must have a stronger stomach than I do."  
  
"He does," Trowa told her. "Stronger stomach, stronger armies, and stronger balls. I would not underestimate him, Cousin."  
  
"And your dear sister?"  
  
"That bitch? She has little power. She's kept safe _\--_ until she has a child, Treize's claim to the throne is weak, and everyone knows it. As soon as they realized that she was expecting, they sent me off with Dorothy to watch over me." Trowa laughed. "I have sworn my loyalty but apparently that is not enough." He turned and looked at her. "One bet that Dorothy didn't mention was the most popular one in Oz. How much longer they will suffer me to live. I become more and more of a threat the older I get. My dear big brother does not suffer threats lightly."  
  
"I suppose I'm lucky to be an only child," she said, and then winced.  
  
Trowa kindly offered no comment.  
  
"You are still a citizen here," Relena said. "If you were to make an oath of loyalty to my father and myself you would be free to make your home in this country."  
  
"And be killed the instant I next set foot in Oz as a traitor," Trowa said.  
  
"Yes, but if you took that oath I could kick Dorothy out," Relena said wistfully, and then laughed at the hopeful look on his face.  
  
After a startled second, Trowa laughed with her.  
  
+  
  
Duo could not sleep.  
  
Heero was wrapped around him, sleeping, his breath deep and even. Duo turned his head and laid a kiss on the arm that was draped over his body.  
  
They hadn't found the Poet.  
  
He closed his eyes and wondered if she was all right. He was too smart to say so, but he did not regret Faiza's death. The girl had been a bitch _\--_ two of his sisters were endangered because of her. If Poe was hurt _\--_ not even being dead would protect her from his wrath.  
  
There was a movement in the corner of the room. Duo stayed completely and utterly still.  
  
For twenty minutes.  
  
What the hell was this?  
  
"If you've come to attack, please hurry up about it," Duo said loudly.  
  
Heero started and sat up, grabbing for his sword. Duo stayed in his lounging position.  
  
A familiar laugh came from the shadows. "I was wondering how long you'd wait."  
  
"I've never been all that patient, now have I?" Duo asked comfortably.  
  
"I thought perhaps the pretty there had softened you." Solo moved closer. "The young Odin. I could get quite a good price for one so. . . feisty."  
  
"There are some things worth so much that no one could pay the price," Duo said, and laid his hand on Heero's leg. The other boy was silent, his eyes riveted to Solo's shadowy form.  
  
"Why, Duo," Solo said, dropping onto the end of the large bed. Heero tensed. "You sound so besotted."  
  
"Did you come here to play games?"  
  
"Well. . . I did. . . but I doubt your lover here would take to them. He doesn't look like the kind to share, now does he?" Solo gazed soulfully into Heero's eyes. "Duo does make one feel protective, doesn't he? Aren't his eyes so pretty when you have him beneath you? He's so tight. . . and sweet. . . and he makes such noises."  
  
Heero's eyes were glittering. Duo sighed. "You know that Poe's missing?"  
  
Solo rose easily. "I know."  
  
"Do you know where she is?"  
  
"Not yet." The words seemed to glitter in the night air. "But I will soon."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"That depends on whether or not she killed the Bitch-Lady."   
  
Solo sighed and paced, his gait rolling and easy. "I told you this was a bad idea, but you just had to get your revenge on her. It's rather funny, though _\--_ she had you for an enemy and was killed by someone else. Very few people could say that."  
  
"Very few people would want to."  
  
"True enough."  
  
"How do you know he didn't kill her?" Heero asked, the words gritted out from behind locked teeth.  
  
Solo dropped back onto the bed lazily _\--_ Heero gripped his sword tighter. "Because I didn't tell him he could."  
  
"And you are the master of his conscience, then?"  
  
"He's my friend," Duo said softly.  
  
"More than that," Solo said, running a light finger over Heero's sword. It occurred to the Odin that this was what Duo would be like without his sense of humor and his genuine like for other people. Heero wasn't impressed. "I'm his family." He leaned in, a bit closer, as if he would kiss Heero, not seeming to mind that there was a sword pressed to his throat. "Who are you?"  
  
"Back off, Solo," Duo said, sounding annoyed. "Tell me what you want and get out of here before we all get in trouble."  
  
"That's simple enough," said Solo, pulling back and standing abruptly. "I want you to kill for me."  
  
"It might have to wait until I'm done here," Duo said doubtfully.  
  
"No," said Solo. "It won't. The person I want you to kill is our own sweet friend. Lady Hilde."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: on the scythe thing -- purely off the top of my head. I have no idea what the difference would be, and I thought of a few problems with my argument after I wrote it, but as that's not the focus of this fic, please just go with it.


	7. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \----------  
> warnings: sex stuff, language, arrests and flirting, lying and Relena- sympathy. parings: 1+2, 3+4

"I thought maybe I wouldn't go back."  
  
Astonished, Quatre stared at his lover. "Not go back?"  
  
Trowa went stoic. "It was just an idea."  
  
"A damned good one, I think." He pulled on his boots with a smile. "A really damned good one."  
  
"They'd kick me out of the prince club."  
  
"The Winner Clan would open its home to you."  
  
Trowa leaned over for a kiss. "As long as it opens its legs for me, I'll be fine."  
  
"Catherine would be glad to have you, too."  
  
"Yeah, but we're too closely related. Besides, not everyone who wants me can have me."  
  
Quatre elbowed him in the stomach. "You know what I mean."  
  
Trowa looked away. "I have to ask you something."  
  
"I'll do my best to answer."  
  
"Is she really my cousin?"  
  
Astonished, Quatre framed his lover's face with his hands. "Don't you remember?"  
  
"Sometimes. Sort of. They didn't want me to remember. So I forgot." Trowa's eyes grew bitter. "I gave up everything _\--_ not just my family but my memory of them as well _\--_ for a country that refused to accept me."  
  
"You would have been a good king."  
  
"And I would have hated every minute," he said. "I don't begrudge my sister and her husband the throne. She's the oldest, she's the legitimate one _\--_ I'm all for it. What I resent is the fact that they had to make me a villain for it to work. I couldn't walk down the streets at home without someone spitting at me. I've spent the past few years hiding inside the palace because everyone outside it hates me."  
  
"From what I heard, not everyone hated you."  
  
"Just because they slept with me doesn't mean they didn't despise me. I had power, even if I was only half human. To their way of thinking. Even my father. . . even before he died they hated me."  
  
"I bet he loved you."  
  
"You bet wrong," Trowa said, staring into his lover's eyes.  
  
Quatre placed a kiss on that half-covered forehead, then on Trowa's nose, then on his cheeks, his throat, his eyes. "I bet I'm right," he said between kisses. "I don't think that anyone could know you and not love you."  
  
"My father never knew me," Trowa said, gently pushing the smaller boy back to the bed.  
  
"Then I pity him," Quatre said, and kissed Trowa's lips. "You know," he said, "I just got my boots on."  
  
"They can stay," Trowa said with a grin, and ripped open Quatre's pants.  
  
Quatre's eyes widened, and then he began to laugh. "Oh, we'll see about that, Trowa Barton! Just give me one second and then we'll see who spreads his legs for who!"  
  
"For whom," Trowa said jauntily. "And call me Try."  
  
+  
  
Relena found it ridiculously easy to keep her face impassive as her father's spymaster told her what information he had found on the activities of Faiza Reberba and her clan. After the past few days, she didn't think that much could shock her.  
  
"We compared what we found in the shops my lord Quatre pointed out to us with the list of missing goods," the older man told her. "There were some matches, but most of the goods have either been sold long ago or never came to the capital in the first place."  
  
"Do we have any idea of where they might be?"  
  
The spymaster looked regretful. "They may be stockpiled in the Reberba estates _\--_ I consider that unlikely, however. It seems that the reason for these acts was in part financial _\--_ a few years ago Lady Faiza was given part of the family business to run as a test. She seems to have failed miserably."  
  
"And her mother?"  
  
"We are not yet sure, your highness. It is possible that the Lady Faiza undertook this independently, to make up for her losses. However, if my suspicions as to where the rest of the goods are is correct, than this seems unlikely."  
  
"You don't think they're just in various shops around the country," Relena said wearily.  
  
"The items were simply too specialized for that to be a viable option," the spymaster told her. "They couldn't risk selling them in any place where a Winner might run across them. Added to that, there were several unique items among the missing goods. A pair of intricately embroidered gloves matches the description in a recent fashion report from the capitol of Eltoo _\--_ a rare dye has become the rage in Arsis in an odd proportion to the official imports _\--_ and her grace Dorothy," here the spymaster looked slightly disconcerted. "When her grace's belongings were unpacked here she had among them a set of gray pearls that resemble those possessed by Lord Quatre's missing sister."  
  
Relena followed the trade routes in her head and came to an unpleasing conclusion. "She was stealing her kinsman's goods and trading them with Oz, who in turn sent them on to Eltoo and Arsis."  
  
"I fear that is the most likely situation."  
  
"Which means that we need to determine whether or not there were delegates from Oz at Reberba recently," Relena said. "You'll see to that?"  
  
"I will, your highness."  
  
Relena sighed. "I'm sure that this can hardly be a good time for you. I saw your granddaughter the other day _\--_ I apologize for taking you away from your family during one of their rare visits."  
  
"Sylvia?" the spymaster looked surprised, then smiled. "Yes _\--_ she paid me a brief visit. I did not realize your highness had spoken to her."  
  
"No _\--_ just passed her in the hall the other day, or something," Relena said, rubbing her temples. "Do convey my appreciation of her writings to her, please. She has such a lovely turn of phrase."  
  
"Your highness honors my granddaughter and the Noventa family," the spymaster said, sketching a bow. "And now, my lady, to the matter of the Shinigami."  
  
Relena sat up straight. "How do you know of that? I have told no one, and ordered silence from my companions. I haven't even told my father yet."  
  
The spymaster quirked an eyebrow. "It's my job to know, your highness. And your father knows as well _\--_ I told him my suspicions when the assassin entered the palace."  
  
"And I was not informed of this?"  
  
"We did not believe you to be in any danger, your highness, and your father wanted your attention focused on other things. Denouncing the guest of one of your guests could have caused a diplomatic incident."  
  
"So instead you gave an assassin free rein in my palace?" Relena asked, her tone frigidly polite. "And now that one of my guests is dead?"  
  
"I and my people are doing the utmost to resolve this matter, your highness," Noventa said stiffly.  
  
"My lord, I can hardly be an effective monarch with limited information," Relena retorted, still annoyed. "Have you any further information for me? Please, wrack your brain. I would hate to find out something you thought irrelevant now will be related to the death of my next guest."  
  
"I hope to have more news for you later this evening, but for now, I fear I have nothing." He bowed again. "If your highness will excuse me."  
  
"We thank you for your information," she said, barely meaning it, and then sighed as the door closed behind him. When Sally came in a few moments later she found the princess in tears.  
  
Setting down the tray of tea quickly, she rushed to the girl who was for all intents and purposes her sister. And her queen. "Relena!"  
  
"I can't do this, Sally," Relena wept, allowing Sally to embrace her. "I can't be a queen. My first big duty _\--_ my first taste of it _\--_ and already I've killed one of the most important people in the kingdom and all but had an insurrection in my sitting room. I'm playing hostess to the foremost assassin in my country and I have no," she checked herself "no idea what to do." And the symbol of her country's power had become no more than that _\--_ just a symbol. The Weapon was powerless, and she was useless.  
  
"Relena," Sally said softly, stroking the younger girl's hair. "It will be all right. Lady Faiza's killer will be found. . . because it wasn't you. It's not your fault. And we'll figure out a way to deal with all of this. I know it. No matter what happens, Relena."  
  
"How do you know?" Relena said, clinging to Sally like a baby to her mother _\--_ she pressed her face against the smooth linen covering Sally's shoulder and allowed herself a second to pretend that it was her mother's hand that moved, warm and loving, on her head.  
  
"I know that everything will be all right," Sally soothed, "and I know that because as long as we have the Weapon, the gods have not forsaken us." Taking Relena's gasp for a sob, Sally made a soothing noise. "We'll be all right, Relena. I promise you that. Just trust in the gods and the Weapon and your father who is after all still the king. You've years before you need to be queen _\--_ but I truly believe that even if you had to take the throne tomorrow _\--_ even if you didn't have the Weapon _\--_ you'd be all right." Relena felt like the gods had forsaken her. She put on a weak smile and sat back. "You are of course right Sally."  
  
The older woman studied her with concern. "My lord Heero and. . . Duo wish to meet with you. Should I tell them to come back later?"  
  
Relena rubbed at her eyes. "No, no. Just _\--_ one minute." She dipped a handkerchief into a glass of water from the tray that Sally had brought and dabbed at her eyes. "Do I look all right?"  
  
Sally nodded and swept a deep curtsey. "Like a queen, your highness. Like a queen."  
  
+  
  
Heero looked over at his unusually silent companion and wondered what to say.  
  
He hadn't known the night before, either, after Solo had left as quietly and easily as he'd entered. In the dark, finally, he had worked up the courage for a few questions.  
  
"You slept with him?"  
  
"Once or twice," Duo had said. "He's the closest I've ever come to love, after all. Didn't you say that sex and love should go together?"  
  
Heero had thought back to what he and Duo had been doing scant hours before. "I suppose I did."  
  
"Haven't you ever been lonely, Heero?" Duo had asked, turning towards him in the bed they shared.  
  
Heero hadn't known what to say. He thought of the sword beside his bed, of the raven currently in the castle mews. He'd been taught that all a man needed was his sword. And then he thought of the way he felt every time he saw Duo. Like he almost _\--_ almost _\--_ almost had something in his reach. . . and knew in every fiber of his being that he had no chance of holding on to it. "I guess so."  
  
"Sometimes when you're lonely it doesn't matter so much who you touch or how you touch them, so long as you can feel them breathing next to you," Duo said.  
  
Heero had had to remind himself to breathe. A few minutes later he had managed to get another question out. "Do you like it? Killing?"  
  
Duo shifted beside him, drawing his attention back to the present. "What's taking so long?"  
  
"Her highness is busy," Heero answered automatically. "We can't expect her to see us every time we knock on her door."  
  
Duo stood and paced. "I don't like this waiting."  
  
Heero watched the boy he barely knew _\--_ his lover _\--_ and wondered what the hell he was doing. What this intimate stranger was doing to him.  
  
That morning Duo had surprised him in the bath. He had found himself facing the wall, resting his face on Duo's arms, which were braced against the wall ahead of them. His own hands had been busy behind him, guiding the other boy into the sanctuary of his body. He had rubbed his face, his nose, his lips against Duo's arms, flicking his tongue into the soft inside of an elbow, dragging his lower lips along the lightly furred skin. He had been unable to manage the presence of mind to shape his mouth into a kiss _\--_ even that simple use of muscle had been beyond him. A sweet sensation lower in his body had caused him to butt at Duo's arm with his nose, harder _\--_ he had jerked his face back, stung. "Your bones. . . sharp," he had hissed.  
  
Duo had laughed, and Heero had felt the vibrations of that all through his body. "I grew up on the streets. I'm bony." And the smile in his voice was so different than the detachment in it the night before, when, after a long pause, Duo had whispered an answer to Heero's question.  
  
"Yes."  
  
He jerked his head up as the door before them opened and Sally Po came out. "Her highness will see you now."  
  
+  
  
She'd been crying.  
  
He could tell.  
  
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and grinned, embarrassed. "Sorry."  
  
He shrugged and stooped to pick up the lion cub batting at his shoes. "Forgive my intrusion."  
  
"It's no bother," she said, and gestured for him to sit beside her. He did so, noticing that her bright hair was a trifle mussed, and that her green eyes had dark shadows beneath them. "Where's Quatre?" she asked.  
  
Trowa looked around, as if surprised to see that the other boy wasn't with him. "Oh _\--_ he was called off to a meeting. He had some of his soldiers with him, and I was rather pointedly left out of the invitation. He said to meet him in the small library." Trowa remembered the last time he and Quatre had met here and for the first time in as long as he could remember felt embarrassed. Ordinarily he'd be making innuendos _\--_ making sure that simply everyone knew that he'd had the rich and powerful Winner heir on his knees. Begging for mercy. But when it came to Quatre. . . he didn't want to do that. And then he wondered when he'd stopped thinking of the Winner, a potential ally, potential enemy, but never potential friend, and of Kitten, his sex toy, and started thinking simply of Quatre. And he wondered why he had given Kitten _\--_ his sex toy _\--_ the name that only he was allowed to call himself.  
  
"Tell me about Triton," he said suddenly.  
  
Catherine started. "Try. . . about Triton?" She thought for a minute, then smiled tremulously. "All right. My mother and. . . his mother were sisters, only a year or so apart. They looked quite alike, too _\--_ their parents had been distant cousins to each other, so the same coloring ran in the family. Green eyes, brown hair, freckles, this funny sort of nose I have here." She touched the pointy object in question shyly. "When I was four my aunt showed up suddenly _\--_ she'd gone on a visit to. . . another country some years back and never returned. My mother had read me bits of her letters, but I had never met her. So when she showed up I, for a second, thought she was my mother. She had a baby with her _\--_ Triton was two then _\--_ and I thought he was the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. But Mellie the weaver's daughter had been bragging because she had a new baby sister. I had asked my mother for one, too, but she quite honestly told me that she couldn't have any more babies. She said I was sooo special that it would be pride to ask for any more babies. So I decided to adopt Triton as my brother. My aunt," here she stumbled for a second, but kept going, "was sickly. Unhappy."  
  
"Did she miss her lover?" Trowa asked quietly.  
  
"Yes," said Catherine, surprised. "Yes. She did. My mother constantly raged about the man, but my aunt. . . genuinely loved him."  
  
"Did the people hate her?"  
  
Catherine was even more astonished. "And why would they do that?"  
  
"She'd been sleeping with a foreigner. And she had a half- human baby." He winced and corrected himself. "A baby that was only half-Sanc."  
  
"There wasn't anything special about that baby," Catherine mused, noting with satisfaction the brief flash of indignation on his face. "He slept and he shat and he cried, same as all others. Doesn't seem to me that there was anything particularly Oz or particularly Sanc about that. He was just a baby. And she was a fairly good woman, and a truly good mother, so there wasn't anything to be said against her. She wasn't the first woman to have love trouble in my mother's lands, nor the last."  
  
"What's it like, there?"  
  
"Not half so grand as all this," she said wistfully. "More like. . . like if you have a favorite shirt or something. It may not look as smart as some other, newer ones, but it fits you in a way _\--_ it takes your shape instead of you taking its."  
  
Trowa glanced at his own clothes, which were sent off to charity at the first sign of any wear. He didn't think he had a favorite shirt. Then he took a closer look at the one he wore _\--_ he had snatched it not off of a hanger but off of Quatre. If he breathed in deeply, he could smell his lover. "This is my favorite shirt," he told Catherine.  
  
"It suits you," she said. "It's a lovely color. The blue tint to the green is unusual, and expensive, I suspect." She touched it, tentatively, quickly. "The Winners have a way with dyes."  
  
He stared at her, and then stared at the shirt. "Yes. I believe they do."  
  
+

"We want to know where the Weapon is," Heero said.  
  
Relena didn't blink. "In the Chamber, of course," she said with just the right blend of condescension and bemusement.  
  
Duo stretched. "Do you know that I can hear your heart beating? Is there a particular reason it just got a whole lot faster? And your breathing _\--_ you shouldn't take such fast, shallow breaths. Also, if you clench your hands so tightly beneath the table you'll hurt yourself."  
  
"Watch your tone when you speak to her royal highness," Sally Po snapped.  
  
"It doesn't matter, Sally," Relena said wearily. "Please, my lord Duo, forgive me if my heart pounds a bit faster after the death of my cousin yesterday. I am not so inured that death fails to move me."  
  
"She was your cousin?" Duo asked, his eyes glinting with interest.  
  
"A manner of speech, only," Relena told him, "though I daresay if you went far enough back we are related. One way or another. Is this what you wanted to ask me?"  
  
"We wanted to know where the Weapon is. And how long it's been missing."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Sally Po said, still annoyed. Heero noticed that she was looking daggers at his lover _\--_ as if her harsh behavior would balance out her fond flirtatiousness of the days before. She obviously felt betrayed, he realized. "The Weapon cannot leave the room. Only the monarch can wield it _\--_ few can so much as touch it."  
  
"I had no problems running my hands over it earlier," Heero said stoically. He was lying _\--_ he'd been too busy running his hands over an all but unconscious Duo, who had been quite thrown by their experience in the Chamber.  
  
"My lord, you're a Clan Lord. You should have small problem touching it," Sally said.  
  
"What about me?" Duo asked. "Why could I touch it?"  
  
"Because it's a fake," Relena said softly.  
  
Sally sat down. Hard.  
  
"We're not sure how long the real Weapon has been gone. We have no idea where it is or who took it."  
  
"That's why you brought us here," Heero realized.  
  
"Yes," Relena said simply. "To try and preserve the peace."  
  
"And instead we've had betrayal and murder and a killer dancing every waltz," Sally said, her eyes red-rimmed.  
  
"Oh, that," Duo said, and casually draped a leg over the arm of his (priceless) chair. "That's the other reason we're here. I thought I should tell you before your spymaster did _\--_ I've accepted a contract on Hilde."  
  
"He's been offered a king's ransom to kill her," Heero confirmed.  
  
He saw the expressions on Relena's face, on Sally's _\--_ a sort of horror, a sudden awareness of the depths to which humanity could sink, and a sick fascination with the idea that a dear friend could drive a knife into your heart as easily as breathe. He had felt the same way, himself, last night _\--_ for that everlasting millisecond until Duo had told Solo, "Fuck off!" And then the longer stretch _\--_ minutes in a dim room that stretched like lifetimes _\--_ until Solo's face had relaxed into that mocking grin. "I thought you'd say something like that," he'd said. And Heero had remembered how to breathe.  
  
"I got the offer yesterday," Duo continued, flicking an imaginary grain of dust from his shoe.  
  
"And you accepted it?" Relena's voice was icy.  
  
"Well, sure," Duo said, astonished. "If someone thinks I'm trying to kill her they might not try too hard to get anyone else to."  
  
"Where is the Lady Hilde?" Relena asked, rising. Her hands were still clenched at her sides _\--_ she could feel the imprints of her perfectly shaped fingernails in her perfectly moisturized skin. She felt utterly and completely afraid.  
  
"I picked a few of those soldiers of Quatre's," Duo said carelessly, "and told them not to let her out of their sight. Meiran and Catherine are also keeping a fair eye on her, though not so much that anyone would notice. I've told the rest of Quatre's squad to stand on guard so that it looks like security has been beefed up _\--_ I don't want anyone to know that anybody in the palace knows about the contract. The way I see it there are two groups of people _\--_ the ones who know that Shinigami is Hilde's old chum and the ones who don't. The first group is a lot smaller than the second." He shrugged. "Truth be told, I shouldn't be letting any of you live. And if I didn't love Hilde like I love my sisters I don't know what would happen."  
  
"You'd take out the heir to the throne and most of the Clan Heirs?" Sally asked incredulously.  
  
Duo shot her a sexy grin. "It's the kind of thing that makes a boy's reputation, don'tcha think?"  
  
+  
  
"We have to ask ourselves what benefit Hilde's death would have," Wufei argued.  
  
Hilde looked a little pale. "I've been asking myself that all day."  
  
"You're not going to die," Catherine insisted. "We won't allow it."  
  
Yeah, Hil, Duo thought. You've got a flock of useless nobles trying to protect you. And me. Who knows everything about death but jack shit about preventing it. Aloud he said, "What have you come up with?"  
  
"Well," Hilde said, taking a deep breath, "whoever did this has money. You cost a fair bit."  
  
"They could promise the money but not deliver," Meiran pointed out. "Or have the expectation of money."  
  
"One doesn't skip out on an assassin's bill," Duo said dryly. "We tend to get a wee bit annoyed. . . and to take it out in training, instead."  
  
Hilde laughed. "My father has gotten some interesting incentives over the years. I don't believe he's ever been late with a payment."  
  
"Getting a jar full of testicles can do that to a client," Duo said cheerfully. "Me, I have a collection of _\--_ "  
  
"We don't want to know," Quatre said quickly, going a bit green. He leaned a bit closer to Trowa _\--_ if such a thing were possible.  
  
"False teeth," Duo continued.  
  
"False teeth?" Heero asked.  
  
"Yep. Always thought they were cool. When I lost my baby teeth I used to go around wearing false teeth I'd stolen off of _\--_ uh, friends. I used to try and knock my teeth out on purpose just so I could wear the fake ones."  
  
"But you grew out of that, right?" Catherine asked, her hand frozen in the act of stroking Hanako. The kitten, annoyed at the cessation of affection, rolled over and dug her teeth and claws into Catherine's hand. The Lady Wanderer didn't notice.  
  
"Well. . . my big brother found me doing it one day and beat me black and blue," Duo grinned. "Turned out I'd run out of baby teeth and was trying to get rid of my permanent ones. He told me that if anyone was going to knock out my teeth, it'd be him, and he'd let me know when he was ready."  
  
"But he never did." Meiran looked downright entranced with the story.  
  
"Oh, yeah, he sure as hell did. Just none of the front ones _\--_ said it'd make me too easy to remember. I'm missing a few back in here _\--_ shee?"  
  
"Shut your mouth," Heero said, "and let's try and get back on topic. We didn't arrange this meeting so you could show us all your tonsils."  
  
Duo flashed him a wicked grin. "Oh, you want a private showing? Maybe later. . . depends on what kind of sweet things you say to me."  
  
Heero went even more impassive _\--_ if such a thing was possible. Duo sighed and flopped back. "I have. . . friends. . . trying to find out where the contract originated. It's not easy, because it's not meant to be. In most cases _\--_ my association with Hilde and her family is a rare exception _\--_ it's dangerous for both parties to know each other." He stretched. "For a second when I got the job I thought it was because she betrayed me yesterday."  
  
Hilde looked stricken.  
  
"She had a higher loyalty," Meiran said in Hilde's defense, and Wufei concurred, adding, "it would hardly be honorable for her to continue the deception. Under the circumstances."  
  
Duo's posture was completely relaxed; Heero wasn't so sure about his eyes. "Guess there's a reason why she's the noble Lady and I'm the street rat."  
  
"Guess so," Hilde said softly.  
  
"In any case," Quatre said, gently dragging them back on topic, "we've determined that Hilde's death was not something ordered as revenge for. . . exposing Duo."  
  
Heero was almost disappointed when the braided boy let that pass with only a smirk.  
  
"How likely is it that the deaths of two Clan Heirs within as many days would be coincidental?" Hilde asked.  
  
"Not very," Catherine mused, "but if it's the same person, why not simply kill you in the same way that Faiza was killed?"  
  
Hilde raised a hand to her throat, her face pale and drawn. Heero remembered how she'd looked last night, asleep, when he and Duo had gone to warn her. A bit tired, certainly _\--_ she had obviously cried before sleeping. But it had been a child's face, a sweet face. Today she looked decades older. . . like a laugh would shatter her.  
  
"Alibi?" Quatre suggested.  
  
"Which points to someone in the palace," Wufei followed. "And makes us ask if it was someone who knew me or not," Duo added glumly.  
  
"Which brings us back to the question of why they want her dead," Quatre sighed. "If we assume that they didn't know who you are, Duo, it's a little more straightforward. But if we assume that they do. . . well, then, that implicates one of us."  
  
"And makes me wonder just who you all told about my little secret," Duo said in singsong tones. "The eight remaining Heirs, the princess, Sally Po. My brother, and two of my sisters, one of whom wouldn't recognize me now if she met me on the street. She has little idea where I am."  
  
"She was the one that Faiza hurt, though," Quatre reminded him. "She might find some way to connect you."  
  
"My sister won't give a fuck about your cousin's death," Duo said bluntly. "She knows better than to wonder too hard about what I'm doing."  
  
"Did any of us tell anyone else?" Heero asked, meeting the eyes of each of his peers in turn.  
  
"You say it like any of us has someone to tell," Catherine said with a quiet dignity. "I myself know no one in the entire city. I didn't tell anyone _\--_ I didn't even speak the words aloud."  
  
"Trowa?" Duo asked, his legs swinging carelessly. His eyes intent.  
  
"Yeah _\--_ I might have let it slip to a few of the maids while I pounded their brains out. Moments of passion _\--_ you know how they are," the other boy said without thinking, then winced. "No. Told no one. . . pounded no one. . . no one to tell." His eyes flicked to Quatre.  
  
"What of the duchess?" Heero asked.  
  
"Dorothy?" Trowa made a face. "I wouldn't tell that bitch I was bleeding to death. All she'd do would be to settle back for the show. No. I told no one. Like Ca _\--_ like my cousin, I didn't even speak the words aloud."  
  
"So," Duo said. "That leaves Zechs, Lucrezia, and aitch-are- aitch. Lady Catherine, Lady Meiran, I would be forever in you debt if you would continue to keep my. . . Lady Hilde with you at all times."  
  
"Of course," Catherine said, and Meiran echoed the sentiment.  
  
"And what do you expect me to do while someone tries to kill me?" Hilde asked, her voice casual."  
  
"I expect you to stay safe."  
  
"I intend to, but I hardly think that hiding in my room is the safest way to go." She stood, a lifetime of leadership adding a dramatic element to the gesture. "If my companions will accompany me, I intend to go speak to Lord Zechs and Lady Lucrezia."  
  
"And if one of them tries to kill you?" Duo asked, his tone totally unconcerned.  
  
"Then I shall take great delight in trying out the new tricks Catherine and I have been teaching these little angels," Hilde said, swooping up Hanako in one arm and sweeping from the room. Catherine and Meiran exchanged glances and followed her.  
  
"Took her long enough," Duo said, satisfaction evident in every movement of his body as he stood and stretched. "I thought she'd sit on her ass like a ghost all day." He looked around the room at his companions _\--_ Trowa, Quatre, Wufei, and Heero. His gaze lingered a little longer on Heero. "Now the five of us can get to the real problem."  
  
"And what would that be?" Wufei asked.  
  
"That, my dear Lord Drag-On, would the be location of aitch- are-aitch's precious little Weapon."  
  
"It's Dragon," Wufei snapped automatically. Then, a second later, "what did you just say?"  
  
+  
  
"We're going to search for the missing item in your bedroom?" the amused tone of Quatre's voice as he followed the prince through the door left little question as to what he thought their real mission in Trowa's chambers was.  
  
"There are a few things I do really well," Trowa said. "And in a crisis one should always rely on one's strengths. I happen to be good at fucking." He spun and caught the blond in a kiss, slamming the door shut with one arm.  
  
"I've. . . oh! . . . noticed," Quatre said, and slipped a hand lower to prove that he, himself, had picked up a few things recently.  
  
Trowa pulled his mouth from his lover's and grinned. "But that's not why I brought you here."  
  
Quatre's face fell. "Well, that's good," he said, as if trying to convince himself. "You've got an idea of where to start?"  
  
"No," said Trowa, "I wanted to ask you what I should wear to dinner tonight." He walked into the next room and opened his wardrobe. "Perhaps this? Or this? Or this one?" He tossed a few garments to Quatre. "All items my dear brother has obtained from his newly discovered clothmakers in a small town no one has heard of. Does it look familiar to you?"  
  
Quatre raised his head; his fingers still caressed the fabric. "This is Winner work."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm positive," Quatre said. "This type of stitch _\--_ right here _\--_ it's a mark of ours. It could be a forgery, but anyone who can make something of such quality has no need to pass it off as another's work. It could have come from my cousins in Oz _\--_ but if that was the case why wouldn't your brother say so?"  
  
"So it came from your missing caravans," Trowa said. "And this?" He tossed his lover a brooch. "Just part of the bribe to get me peacefully out of the caravan."  
  
"Sapphires look to be from Auverne," Quatre said, eyeing them carefully. "The jade could be from several places, including Arthis. We lost a load of gems from Auverne two months ago and a caravan from Arthis a month before that." He eyed the setting disdainfully. "They certainly weren't set by the Winners. Not our style. Or rather, our lack thereof."  
  
"My brother-in-law took over my country and all I got was this lousy brooch," Trowa murmured. "Bastard always was cheap."  
  
In spite of himself Quatre laughed.  
  
A few minutes later, still examining his wardrobe, Trowa remarked, "Treize is too much in control of Oz to not know about this. If someone else had provided the goods _\--_ maybe _\--_ but the fact that he introduced them to us means that he knows they're from Raberba."  
  
"And from Winner," Quatre said grimly. "I find it hard to believe that even Treize would take on my family. I have some cousins in the Oz court who are not without power and influence."  
  
"Are you sure of them?" Trowa asked softly.  
  
"Two days ago I would have said yes without hesitation," his lover whispered, face blank, eyes haunted. "Now. . . I think not. But I am sure of so little."  
  
Watching the boy, Trowa felt a pain deep within him. He had been betrayed by his own family, but that had mattered little in the long run. He had survived it. Seeing the other boy doubt his family, people Trowa knew nothing of _\--_ that hurt him. He had the sudden and completely impractical thought that he would do anything to keep Quatre from being hurt. And following it was the equally strong revelation that there was little he could do.  
  
+

Duo's mouth was full. Overflowing. He reached up and wiped a dab of creamy white from his lower lips. "Mmmm," he sighed. Wufei watched, his expression slightly skeptical. Duo took an even bigger bite of the ice cream a pretty maid had given them in return for a few of Duo's extra-special smiles. Bet I know what he's thinking, Duo thought. He's wondering how this goofy kid can be a killer. He took yet another bite. Good.  
  
He let his eyes wander over to Heero, who was eating in neat spoonfuls. Duo weighed the pleasure found from the cold confection to the pleasure he would receive from Heero's look of astonishment, and grinned. Pulling back a loaded spoon, he aimed and fired. A blob of ice cream landed on his lover's nose.  
  
Heero's hand froze. His eyes narrowed. And a second later Duo found an entire bowl of ice cream on his lap. "Geez! Heero! You're not supposed to do it all at once!" Duo protested.  
  
"Hn. Why not?"  
  
"Because now you're unarmed," Duo grinned. "And I'm not." He loaded his spoon again.  
  
Heero looked at Wufei. Considered.  
  
The Dragon pulled his bowl to his chest. "No. Nuh-uh. Never."  
  
Heero took a step closer, still eyeing the bowl.  
  
"Heero, this is not the honorable path," Wufei said, his voice rising a bit. Sounded like a girl, Duo noted cheerfully. The side of Heero's mouth moved up. Almost _\--_ sort of _\--_ like a smile.  
  
"Think of justice _\--_ " Heero darted. Wufei smirked. And the Odin found himself wearing a bowl of ice cream.  
  
Duo cackled and set shots flying at both of them.  
  
They exchanged glances.  
  
And advanced.  
  
"Argh! No! No more!" Duo begged several minutes later, pushing frantically at Heero's tickling hands. Wufei, who was making ice cream designs on Duo's squirming face, went right on doing so. "Please!" he begged, breathless from laughing.  
  
Wufei sat back, admiring his work before it melted away. "Should we show mercy?"  
  
"Hn," said Heero, and leaned over to kiss the ice cream from Duo's nose. . . and cheeks. . . and lips. When he sat back up, Duo was staring at him with an expression that seemed almost. . . unguarded. Shock, perhaps, soul deep. He looked over at Wufei, who was deliberately ignoring them.  
  
"Great!" Duo said, sitting up and moving away from Heero quickly. "Sugar! Now we can get some work done!"  
  
"You might want to change first," Wufei pointed out.  
  
"Right, right," the braided boy babbled. "Clean clothes _\--_ one of my favorite things. So who's my escort this time? God knows we can't have me alone for three whole seconds!"  
  
"I'll go," Heero said, standing and leading the way out the door. Duo said something meaningless to Wufei and bounded after him.  
  
"That was fun, right, Heero? I mean, the sugar and the games and all that stuff. I bet you did that all the time when you were a kid! Oh _\--_ look _\--_ Relena hasn't moved my stuff yet! I betcha she will before tonight! Wouldn't want me this close to Hilde, after all! She's been annoying me for years _\--_ tonight I might snap!"  
  
"I'll have them move your things to my room," Heero said, sitting on the bed.  
  
Duo, shirt halfway over his head, paused, and then shrugged, dropping the shirt on the floor. His face when it emerged had a completely different look on it. "You assume a lot, don't you?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Maybe I'd rather sleep with Wufei. After all. . . you. . . I've already had." He dropped his pants. "Maybe I'm bored."  
  
"Maybe I can promise to keep you entertained," Heero said, mouth dry as he watched the lithe boy move across the room.  
  
"Maybe I don't think you have it in you," Duo purred, loosening his long hair.  
  
"Maybe I want to," Heero managed.  
  
Duo, hair unbounded, walked toward him, and then dropped onto the bed. Crawling Heero's way _\--_ all sorts of interesting bits dangling _\--_ he looked like a god. Heero took a deep breath. "Maybe," Duo breathed, "you weren't that good a fuck."  
  
"I'm good at everything I do," Heero said, with no pride. Just truth. "Give me at least a day to learn."  
  
Duo's fingers found the fastening on Heero's shirt. "Maybe I just wanted to fuck a noble."  
  
"Yeah, and maybe I just wanted to fuck a whore."  
  
Duo pulled back.  
  
"Or maybe I wanted to. . . make love with you."  
  
"Whores don't make love. Nobody's got that much money."  
  
"Why don't you stop playing with me and tell me what the hell the problem is?"  
  
"The problem is, I'm not your lover. Just because I fucked you last night. . . and this morning. . .and just because I'm about to do it again. . . that doesn't mean jack shit. Got it?"  
  
"Hmm," Heero said. Duo studied his face and then reached for the hem of his shirt.  
  
"I don't want you kissing me in public."  
  
Astonished, Heero looked at the other boy. "Wufei's hardly public."  
  
"I don't care. I don't need that. Relena already thinks I'm killing her court _\--_ I don't need her thinking that I'm corrupting them, too. Especially not you _\--_ her pretty boy." Duo shifted a bit, and Heero searched for air. "I don't mind this me/you bedroom thing _\--_ but it is a bedroom thing."  
  
Heero caught his hand as it went for the pants. "Are you ashamed of me?"  
  
Duo arched an eyebrow. "I'm a thief, a murderer, a bastard who got found on the streets like garbage. I run and I hide and when I have to I lie. Why the hell would I be ashamed of you?" He placed a firm kiss on the other boy's lips. "This is good sex, Heero. Don't ruin it by making it more than that, and don't ruin your life over it. You'll be a Clan Lord long after I'm gone."  
  
"Maybe," said Heero, his lips on his lover's throat. "Maybe. Now shut up and fuck me."  
  
Duo dragged his pants all the way off. "One good fuck, coming right up."  
  
+  
  
Making love. Duo shut his eyes and listened to Heero's breathing.  
  
The other boy squirmed closer. "We may not be saving the world, but if it ends this is the way to go," he said sleepily. "I told Wufei we'd be right back," Duo sighed. "It's been an hour. We're going to be late for dinner if we don't move right this second."  
  
"I doubt we're invited," Heero said, tracing circles on his lover's abdomen. "I don't mind if you don't."  
  
Duo shifted his head so that his nose was in Heero's hair. He inhaled deeply. "You're something else, Heero." A thought occurred to him and he smiled against Heero's head. "And speaking of something else. . . ."  
  
+  
  
"Oi! Roa! Set us up, would you?"  
  
The woman _\--_ girl, really _\--_ behind the bar looked up and squealed. "Aye and if it ain't me own darlin'! Where you been, love?"  
  
Duo made his way through the crowded public house _\--_ Heero followed closely. Very closely. "I been missing you, of course," he said, and laughed when the girl leaned over the bar and smacked a kiss on his lips.  
  
"Aye and you're a sweet liar," she said. "What'll it be?"  
  
Heero felt a certain warmth on the back of his neck _\--_ he turned to look behind him. A man was eyeing him up and down _\--_ when their eyes met, he lifted his glass and lowered one eye in a lusty wink. Heero turned back to Duo quickly. And edged a bit closer.  
  
"And who's this, then?" Roa asked, setting a drink before Heero. She gave the boy a good look. "You're a pretty one, aren't you?"  
  
Heero wasn't sure if he should nod _\--_ shake his head _\--_ say something _\--_ return the compliment. It wasn't until his hand closed around the hilt of his knife that he realized it had moved.  
  
"He just followed me in," Duo said. "Never seen him before in my life." He laughed at the look on Heero's face. "Nah, he's with me." He ran a hand possessively over Heero's hair _\--_ Heero glared at him.  
  
"Betraying me again, lover?" Roa asked with a smile.  
  
"Aye, because your man wouldn't cut my balls off in a second if I glanced the wrong way," Duo said, and comically leered down her shirt. She laughed again and pushed him back, then smiled at Heero.  
  
"He's a bit of an odd one but we like him well enough. They call me Roa. Always glad to meet me darlin's darlin. He treatin' you good?"  
  
Heero watched Duo drain a glass. "Well enough."  
  
A heavy arm clasped around his shoulder. "I wager I could treat you better."  
  
A second later, the man was on the floor, staring up in astonishment. "It was just a suggestion!" he protested, his face very red.  
  
Heero looked down at him, his foot still on the man's throat. "Hn."  
  
Duo's eyes were wide. "Calm down!" He pulled Heero back. "Last thing we need is too much attention!" He turned to the man and offered him a hand. "Forgive my friend, Voss. He's a bit. . . touchy."  
  
"Not as touchy as I'd like him to be!" Voss grumbled good naturedly. "Does he do that to you every time you lay a finger on him? If so, you'd best watch where you lay your cock!"  
  
"I'll mind my own cock, thank you," Duo said, "and you mind yours _\--_ gods know it hasn't lain anywhere but in your own hand for too long a time!"  
  
"Some of us can't afford anyone as pretty as you, Darlin'," Voss said, wrapping his arm around Duo's shoulders. "Unless. . . for old time's sake. . . ."  
  
Heero forced himself to stay still. This room. . . in some ways it was worse than the palace. No flowers, at least _\--_ but there was music _\--_ and sweat _\--_ and smoke. And people. Lots of undisciplined people.  
  
"So you be a client of Darlin's?" Roa asked comfortably, pushing a glass a little closer to Heero. "From what I hear he's worth every penny."  
  
For a startled second he wondered _\--_ "you mean in bed?" Roa was taken aback. "Aye, and what else would I mean? If darlin' could do anything else I might die of shock! It's like my father always said _\--_ some was born to fight, some was born to love, and some was born to drink. My father fell into that last category, you know. Aye, and I'd bet you're a fighter yourself."  
  
"And you?" Heero asked.  
  
She shrugged. "I don't mind drinking, and I'll fight if it comes down to it, but I'd ruther have love any day." She paused a second. "Or night."  
  
"Aye and you might have to polish your fighting skills, Roa," a man down the bar called out. "I hear that the king is too sick to wield the weapon. We'll be part of Oz before spring!"  
  
"Aye and I'd be in the streets fighting before it came to that," Roa said, flicking a towel at him. "And so would you, Hamish! If I had to push you there myself!" She ran the towel over the sticky bar _\--_ as far as Heero could tell, it made little difference. "Myself, I'm not so sure that even if the king _\--_ gods bless his fat ass-was strong he could do anything with the weapon."  
  
"You don't believe in it?" Heero asked.  
  
Roa considered. "I believe in the gods because I'm not a foolish woman, whatever my man _\--_ or yours _\--_ might say. I believe that the king does a decent job _\--_ this bar here is half mine and the law will defend my right to it. But as for the gods favoring the king?"   
  
She shrugged. "That's good enough for old stories but when it comes to King Treize _\--_ gods curse his fat ass _\--_ I'd rather have Darlin's boss. You hear that, darlin'? You tell old Solo to send one of his men after Treize!"  
  
"You paying, Roa?" Duo asked, back to the bar for another drink. "For a kiss I'd do it myself!"  
  
"Aye and that'd be a waste of a kiss!" she laughed. "Just because you belong to Solo doesn't mean you can talk like him! You'd do better to take up verse and write with the Poet, luv. You're a lover. Not a fighter."  
  
"If I can love you," Duo said, kissing her again, "I'll be content with that. Have you seen the Poet lately?"  
  
"Not since she and Solo were here the other day," Roa said, giving a glass a cursory wipe before filling it for another customer. "Yesterday, it was. She's been gone a lot lately."  
  
"Aye, and the king's taken a fancy to her poetry and set her up as the court poet," Duo teased. "I'm waiting for him to a take a fancy to mine."  
  
"You'd have a shorter wait waiting for him to take a fancy to something else of yours," another barmaid said, smiling at Duo.  
  
"I've given up my fine trade," Duo declared, "and decided to take a wife." He pulled Heero to his side _\--_ the smell of alcohol was strong on him. "Here he is!" He tilted his head a bit and kissed Heero, full on the lips, but his eyes didn't close. There was a challenge there, Heero thought dizzily, a dare to prove that he was more than just the other boy's toy _\--_ he wasn't sure if Duo knew it or not, but there was a challenge there. He closed his own eyes and kissed his lover back for all he was worth.  
  
Perfect soldiers never backed down from challenges. He pulled back, opened his eyes, and was surprised to see Duo watching him with something deeper in his eyes than usual _\--_ fear? Disquiet?. Heero smiled.  
  
Mission accepted.  
  
+  
  
Relena, who had managed to get through dinner without having to talk to Dorothy Catalonia even once, sighed in relief as they moved to a small parlor. Everything seemed to be going well _\--_ except for the absence of two of her Clan Heirs. Other than that, though. . . she looked around the room.  
  
They seemed like a group. Wufei and Zechs and Catherine discussed arms; Quatre and Hilde were laughing at something; Trowa was flattering Meiran ridiculously; Sally was managing to keep a conversation going between Lucrezia and Dorothy.  
  
As for Heero. . . Relena wasn't stupid. She'd seen the looks Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre had exchanged before Quatre had diplomatically said that Heero was guarding Duo. She had fair suspicion that guarding was only part of it. For a minute, then, Relena had wished that she were a man, and a foolish one _\--_ that she could flirt with Death and laugh like he laughed and hold Heero in his cold arms like he was probably doing right now.  
  
As for Faiza _\--_ her body lay in state. She would be cremated in three days time. And they would all stand there, their faces polite with masks of grief, their bodies stiff with masks of disdain. She wished she knew that anyone _\--_ just one of them _\--_ was thinking. Her eyes fell on the face of the man she had yet to call brother.  
  
He looks like me, she realized with a start, around the eyes. Right then he was laughing and leaning forward _\--_ she could not remember the last time she had behaved likewise. Relena was seized with a sudden desire to know him, to be part of this group. All around her she could feel them coming together, but she still stood alone in the center of it.  
  
She started towards her brother.  
  
The door opened, and Relena was startled to see her father. She curtsied, briefly, abruptly. "Father _\--_ "  
  
"We are very unhappy with the news we have just been brought," he said without preamble. "Our informants give us good reason, though, for what we are here to do. One of our Clan Heirs has died _\--_ we grieve this loss, but not as much as we grieve the loss of the Heir who was her murderer."  
  
Quatre was frozen, his face ashen, his lips slightly parted.   
  
All the laughter fell from the room and was replaced with an awful foreboding. Relena looked at the seven Heirs before her and saw that not a single one of them was looking at another. All eyes were glued to her father.  
  
"It is with great sorrow and greater anger that we have come to arrest the traitor in our home," her father said, and gestured to the soldiers that followed him. "Arrest Zechs Marquise."  
  
Zechs stood, every inch of his body furious. "I know not what you're talking of, sire," he said, spitting the last word with a hatred that gave it double meaning.  
  
The king stared regally down at the boy who had his face. "We have proof that you have conspired with other lands against us, that you have arranged the death of your cousin the lady Faiza."  
  
"With all due respect, your majesty," Zechs said, no respect at all in his voice, "you are mistaken."  
  
"We are rarely mistaken," the king said softly, his eyes on Zech's hand, which rested on his sword hilt. "We have come in person to arrest you. It is more than you deserve."  
  
Zechs' hand tightened.  
  
+  
  
"They think you're a whore?"  
  
"Yep. A fairly decent one _\--_ explains away any money I manage to have."  
  
"Why don't they call you by your name?"  
  
His lover shrugged. "Didn't have one when I was little. But I used to tag along with Solo, and they always teased that I was his only permanent fixture _\--_ this was before we picked up the rest of the gang _\--_ so they called me Solo's Darlin'."  
  
"He lied to you, then."  
  
"Either that or Roa did," Duo said cheerfully.  
  
"She has no reason to lie."  
  
"No, probably not."  
  
"So he lied to you."  
  
"Most likely."  
  
Heero stopped still in the street outside the palace. "Why aren't you angry?"  
  
Duo shrugged. "Solo usually has a reason for what he does. I don't know _\--_ I just do what he says, for the most part, and we get along fine."  
  
"But he lied to you!"  
  
"Either that or he didn't want to tell me anything with you there," Duo said, starting to walk again.  
  
Heero followed him. A minute later, he spoke again. "You emulate him."  
  
Duo glanced over, puzzled. "Yep. Guess so. Always have."  
  
"Why?"  
  
His nose wrinkled. "I guess. . . because he's perfect." Duo ticked off items on his fingers. "He survives, he succeeds, he brings people together, he protects them. He saved me."  
  
Heero shut his mouth on the pithy comment he'd been about to utter. "Saved you?"  
  
"Saved my life. Took me in."  
  
"He made you a whore and a killer."  
  
Duo thought about that for a minute. "Aye, and I suppose he did. But I never stopped him."  
  
"How can you take this so lightly?" Heero said, almost screaming.  
  
Duo seemed perplexed by the question. "Well. . . because he's my family. And because when it comes down to it he didn't make me anything _\--_ he only gave me the means to become what the gods had made me to be. I kill, sure. I'm good at it, too." He rubbed a hand over his forearm as if cold. "It's not exactly the first time he's lied to me. I'm not saying I won't beat the crap out of him later _\--_ or at least try _\--_ but I'm not going to cry over it."  
  
"Those people in there _\--_ they don't know you're _\--_ "  
  
"Of course not," Duo said, laughing at the question. "As far as they're concerned I'm Solo's Darlin', no more, no less."  
  
They were approaching the palace now.  
  
"And are you?"  
  
"His?" Duo considered it, then smiled. Hungrily. "Not tonight."  
  
They climbed in through the window and found the Poet waiting for them. She was covered in blood.


	8. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \------------  
> warnings--PLEASE READ: this fic contains the death of a minor character and what is the most explicit sex scene I've ever written (which isn't saying much). Please be warned that though the sex is still a little on the euphemistic side, it does incorporate a sort of violence that may not agree with you--not s&m or bondage, but violence nonetheless. I don't think it'll be _too_ bad to read--but it does sort of weird me out that I wrote it. . . .

Outside the bells struck the new day.  
  
Duo cursed and moved, quickly, quickly, knife in one hand, concern in the other. "Poe!"  
  
She smiled weakly. "Aye and it's always the ones you love, ain't it though?" She pressed a hand to her side. "You can put the knife away, Duo. I haven't got the strength to stab you." She took a shallow breath. "I didn't know. . . ."  
  
Duo slipped the knife back into his sleeve _\--_ still less than a thought away _\--_ and took a look at her wound. It made him pale. "Gods. . . Poe. . . who?" He looked over at Heero with the closest thing to true emotion the other boy had ever seen on his lover's face.  
  
"My grandfather," she said, with a faint smile. "My own grandfather."  
  
Heero moved forward, his face guarded. "That's where I know you. You're the image of your mother, Lady Sylvia."  
  
Her voice was gracious, lacking all its usual gutter flavor. "So I have been told, my lord, by many. I fear she suffers by the comparison."  
  
Duo sat back and inched the knife a little closer to his fingers. "You'll need bandages, Poe. Hot water. What was it?"  
  
Heero nodded and went to a chest that stood against the wall.  
  
"Knife," she said, and winced. "Through the shoulder when I confronted him about his meeting with Lady Faiza so shortly before her death. When I arranged it I had," and here she shuddered unconsciously, the motion causing a new flow of blood to soak the cloth she held against her shoulder, "no idea. I thought. . . ."  
  
"We can't ring for hot water," Heero said, coming to kneel beside his lover, "or anything else. "Good thing my family never travels without a few essentials." He opened the small box in his hands and quickly, efficiently, began to bandage her room. "You'll survive it, lady."  
  
"I can't move my fingers," she said, eyes wide but determinedly brave. Duo reached up as if to brush away a tear and she flinched. "I'm all right," she said, "really."  
  
"So tell me about your grandfather," Duo said, leaving a hand gently on her face. The sweet gesture was completely at odds with the look in his eyes.  
  
"General Noventa," Heero said. "The king's spymaster, if I'm not mistaken."  
  
"Five years ago he came to me and asked me to help him. He said he needed a child, one he could trust absolutely. When I agreed, he told me that the Weapon was missing."  
  
Heero's eyes darkened. "Five years ago?"  
  
The Poet _\--_ Sylvia _\--_ nodded, and bit her lip against the pain that caused. "Aye and he knew it'd been missing for a while even then. He had some reason to be curious about the activities of a thief in the capital; it seemed like a perfect opportunity for him since that same thief seemed to take in a child now and then. Had his own little stable of thieves. And, I later found out, assassins. So I told the people at court I was retreating to my family's estate because I found court life too busy to allow me time for my poetry, told my parents that I was going to stay with my grandfather to help him out in his old age, cut off all my hair and learned to talk right, and then went out into the markets." She grinned humorlessly. "I was supposed to find you. Instead you found me."  
  
Duo's hand tightened on his knife as he remembered exactly how he had found her. "You gave a lot for your job, didn't you?"  
  
Her eyes seemed to beg him for. . . something indefinable. "I have always adored my grandfather," she said softly, and winced as Heero tightened a bandage. "I simply had not realized until today what a fool I was."  
  
"What happened?" Heero asked, closing his box. "You'd do best not to move that for a while. Stay as still as possible."  
  
"My grandfather has accused Zechs Marquise," Sylvia said. "He has a great deal of information the king does not _\--_ the king would not know about the Weapon being missing if one of his generals hadn't had a suspicion. My grandfather did not intend to tell the king until the day he held the weapon in his hand _\--_ at which point he would have become king himself."  
  
"Why?" Heero demanded.  
  
"My grandfather. . . was to the king's father. . . what my lord Zechs. . . is to her Highness," Sylvia managed.  
  
"And if he succeeded, you would be his heir, would you not?" Heero asked.  
  
"I suppose I would," she conceded, "but you must believe me. I have no wish for the throne, and no wish to be a traitor. And certainly no wish to see Zechs Marquise die."  
  
"So what do you propose to do?" Duo asked, his voice soft to her ears as flesh to a knife.  
  
"My grandfather will find that I have not stayed where he left me to think things over," she told him, "at which point he will probably do something foolish."  
  
"You've been spying on my family for five years now," Duo said, cutting her off. "Why should I believe you?"  
  
"Because I've been your family for that long," she said simply.  
  
"You going to tell me that you haven't been feeding the law information about us all this time?" He moved his hand, caressing her face, one blink away from her exposed throat.  
  
She kept her head high. "Only sometimes. And sometimes I've fed Solo information. He's known who I was for a while."  
  
Duo drew back, startled.  
  
"Does he have the Weapon?" Heero asked quietly.  
  
"I don't know," Sylvia said, her eyes filled with longing. "He has something, but what it is. . . I don't know."

+

"The evidence is no more than circumstantial," Relena snapped. "This is ridiculous. How could you have simply barged in and arrested him like that?"  
  
Her father's face was red. "You're questioning me?"  
  
"Yes," she said, sweeping forward. "As your daughter and as your subject, I am questioning you! Zechs did not do it! He would not have done such a thing!"  
  
"You have no way to know that!" he bellowed.  
  
"He's my brother!"  
  
The king was shocked into silence.  
  
"He's my brother," Relena said, quietly this time, "and he is innocent."  
  
"You will not say such things in Our presence," her father declared. "In fact, you will leave Our presence immediately and not come back until We are ready to see you."  
  
"In other words, Father, I'm to go to my room," Relena said, and swept a mocking curtsey. "As my lord wishes." She strode angrily from the room.  
  
And paused.  
  
The weak evidence that her father's spymaster had collected. . . one of his sources must be corrupt. She would find the man at once.  
  
Resolved, Relena strode down the corridor. She was not conscious of it, but at that moment she for the first time understood what it would mean to be a queen.  
  
+  
  
Quatre hurried back to where his lover was sleeping. He knew he wasn't supposed to wander around by himself, but Trowa had looked so young as he slept that Quatre hadn't been willing to wake him. So he had simply made a quick trip to deliver a message to Rashid, and now he was looking forward to crawling into bed beside his lover. He had someone to sleep beside.  
  
The knowledge so moved him that he stopped dead in his tracks. It was a mistake.  
  
+  
  
He kissed her as the bells struck one in the morning.  
  
When he pulled back her eyes were startled, wide, and wondering. He felt as though he could not breathe until she gave him something, anything, that would tell him that it was all right. That it would be fine.  
  
She touched a hand to her lips. And then dropped her hand, let her lips curve, and said, "Obviously the Dragon Clan knows how to do a few things right."  
  
And Wufei felt a thousand bonds drop from him. He could not prevent a trace of a smile, a weakness in his voice, as he said, "I would not know _\--_ only the Nataku seem to produce women who inspire such actions."  
  
Meiran laughed in pure delight, and kissed him again.  
  
The door slammed open and they broke apart.  
  
Trowa didn't notice; his eyes scanned the room and then lit on Wufei with a stunning desperation. "Quatre," he said. "Where the hell is Quatre?"  
  
+  
  
"He's short and he's blonde. It was dark."  
  
"So instead of my errant granddaughter you have brought me the heir to the most powerful Clan in the kingdom."  
  
There was a shrug in the other voice. "It matters little. When you have the Weapon they will have no choice to follow you. . . especially with my support. With our support."  
  
Footsteps, nearing him, and then the older man's voice, close by. "Did you have to hit him so hard?"  
  
"He stopped suddenly _\--_ I thought he'd seen me _\--_ and so I ended up hitting him a bit lower than planned." The other speaker sounded completely unconcerned. "You know what they say, old man. If you want it done your way, do it yourself."  
  
Gentle pressure on the back of his head.  
  
"You're all but useless, you and that king of yours."  
  
A staccato laugh. "You'll forgive me if I don't report that to my king. He doesn't take such comments kindly. . . and, after all, there should be good relations between kings, should there not?"  
  
There was a pause. . . unconsciousness. . . and an annoyed sigh. "What do I do with him?"  
  
"You could hardly ask for a better hostage. Among other things, he seems to have struck up a friendship with the thief."   
  
Movement. . . he couldn't be sure. . . he almost recognized the voice. "In any case. . . not part of this. . . can't afford to stand with you if you mess this up."  
  
+  
  
And then the would-be king. "I have blood and right on my side _\--_ in a matter of minutes I will have the Weapon as well. How can I mess this up?"  
  
Wufei exchanged a glance with Meiran. "We haven't seen him," he said. "What happened?"  
  
"When I fell asleep he was right there, beside me," Trowa said, sinking down into a chair. He was completely disheveled and looked half mad. At least. "About ten minutes ago, I woke up, and he was gone. He's in trouble!" and here he rose again, raked a hand through his hair, and started for the door.  
  
"Wait," Wufei said. "Was there any sign of someone taking him from. . . your bed?"  
  
"No, no," Trowa said, shaking his head, "and I'm sure I would have noticed that. He must have gone somewhere _\--_ or thought of something _\--_ or _\--_ I don't know, but I know that something's wrong."  
  
"Have you asked Duo, or Heero?" Meiran asked.  
  
"They were gone earlier," Wufei told her.  
  
Meiran rolled her eyes. "Well, they may be back. Quatre may be with them. Shall we?"  
  
"Trowa and I will go find them," Wufei declared. "You will wait with Lady Catherine and Lady Hilde."  
  
Meiran's lips tightened. "I am not the type of woman who waits."  
  
"But you're the type of woman who could protect my cousin if someone comes for her," Trowa said softly. His red rimmed eyes were sincere; he didn't even notice that he had referred to Catherine as his cousin. "My lady. . . ."  
  
Meiran nodded curtly and stalked to the door. Wufei followed her; Trowa, after looking around once more as if Quatre might suddenly have materialized in the room, went after them.  
  
+  
  
"Your highness!" The guard was surprised.  
  
"I wish to see my lord Marquise," Relena said, dignity permeating every word.  
  
"He was to be kept isolated, your highness," the man said, uncertain.  
  
Relena simply waited.  
  
"But your highness, of course, of course," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it, and opened the door for her.  
  
Zechs Marquise sat on a low stone bench. He looked up as Relena entered the room, but said nothing.  
  
"I apologize for this matter," Relena began.  
  
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "This small inconvenient matter of my being declared a traitor and a murderer?"  
  
"My father acted foolishly," Relena said; the harshness of her words surprised her, but she rallied and continued. "I believe that he will soon see the error of his ways. I intend to have you out of here as soon as possible."  
  
"With all due respect, your highness, I don't give a fuck what happens next," Zechs said, his head high. "What has already happened is enough. There is dishonor on my house, and the king has treated me in a most despicable manner."  
  
"You have the look of him when you are angry," Relena said, and to her horror her eyes began to fill with tears.  
  
Zechs said nothing, merely watched her.  
  
"I think it is quite understandable that you hate him," Relena said, blinking furiously. "I would. I have wondered for a long time if what they said was true, and when I saw you I knew it was. And then I wondered why he did not call you son, when he looked at you with such feeling in his eyes. He looks at you, and I think that he must have loved your mother very much."  
  
"Loved her so much he abandoned her," Zechs said, turning his head to stare out the small window. The night was blue-black; the clock tower in the distance was visible only because of the glinting hands. It was half past one. "Loved her so much he took the first possible opportunity to throw me in jail."  
  
"If he called you son I would be dead within a year," Relena said simply. Zechs looked at her sharply. "Or so he fears," she added. "There are many, many people who do not want a queen when they could have a king. And to have a king who was a Clan Lord would set the kingdom against itself in such a fashion that I fear it would not survive. You are my brother." The words fell like stars in the sky-dark room. "And my father is your father, but before that, above that, he is a king." Her eyes went to his chains. "And a good one. I fear that in this case he has allowed his fatherly fears to influence his kingly decisions, but I have every faith that he will calm soon."  
  
"I would I shared that belief, your highness."  
  
Relena stepped forward and laid a hand against his cheek. "My brother, I wish you did too."  
  
+  
  
Catherine arched an eyebrow. "So we're supposed to wait and see what happens?" She stroked the restless kitten in her lap. "I think not."  
  
Hilde paced. "I can't believe they expect us to do nothing while something like this is happening. All duty and honor to the kingdom aside _\--_ don't we deserve a little fun, too?"  
  
Meiran let her hand flit to a concealed knife. "I wouldn't say no."  
  
"Did you note the way he reacted in the Chamber?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Duo? We all did," Hilde said dryly. "He has a flair for the dramatic. Not that I think he was making it up _\--_ he simply wouldn't understand the point of not making the most of everything that happens to him."  
  
"No," Catherine said pensively, "Quatre. I was behind him, and when he entered the room he staggered slightly, and was pale. And quiet."  
  
Meiran eyed the other girl. "Would he have gone back there?"  
  
Catherine shrugged. "I don't know why _\--_ but it's more likely that we'd find him there than under my bed."  
  
Hilde grinned. "A quest, then. A quest for a Quatre. Sounds like fun."  
  
+  
  
Heero kept one eye on the Poet and one eye on his lover. Rather, he attempted to keep one eye on his lover.   
  
Unfortunately, the other boy was nowhere to be seen. He bit back a curse as a shadow turned out to be not Duo but a particularly ugly vase.  
  
The Poet gave a rough laugh. "It ain't Duo," she said.  
  
"No," Heero said, briefly wondering who would want a vase covered in bright orange caterpillars. It was ugly enough that he was fairly sure it was quite valuable.  
  
"Aye and I don't mean that," she said. "I mean that Duo's let __him__ come out to play."   
  
"Him?" Heero asked.  
  
" __Him__ ," she corrected. "Shinigami."  
  
"Duo is Shinigami," he said, a bit confused.  
  
She followed him around a corner, holding herself carefully, and he was struck by her courage. "Aye and you could say that. Me, I've never been all that sure. Duo, well, he's our Darlin'."  
  
Heero thought of the pub. "He seems to be everyone's."  
  
"He's very good at being just what you need to love, I think," the Poet said. "But Shinigami _\--_ he slips out sometimes. I've seen Duo do things. . . that aren't Duo. They're Shinigami, pure and simple."  
  
"There's nothing simple about that," Heero said, annoyed. "You make him sound like some sort of demon. He's not. He's just a highly annoying brat with a gift for sex and death."  
  
He felt rather than saw the Poet's smile. "Aye and he likes you, too."  
  
"Enough with the praise," Duo said, suddenly materializing. "Keep it down. Poe, he's not in his rooms. Where might he be?"  
  
The Poet shrugged, then winced as the motion caused a fresh surge of blood. "I'm not sure, Duo."  
  
"You said he's obsessed with the Weapon," Heero pointed out. "Maybe he'd be in the Chamber? After all, someone might have stolen the Weapon, but it'd be pretty damn impossible to steal the whole room."  
  
Duo sighed. "It's as good a place as any, but I don't mind admitting that I sincerely dislike that room. It seems like a prison, don't you think?"  
  
Heero opened his mouth to agree, but his lover had already melted away. He stared into the shadows and wondered if he should take that as an omen.  
  
+  
  
Midway to Heero's rooms, Trowa stopped. "No," he said. "He's not this way."  
  
Wufei nodded curtly; he wasn't entirely sure that the Oz prince's intuitions could be trusted, but as they had nothing better to go on. . . "which way?" he asked.  
  
Trowa looked around blindly. "Up," he said finally. "He's gone up."  
  
+  
  
The guard stood when Relena exited Zech's cell; he gaped when Zechs followed her. "Your highness!" he exclaimed.  
  
"As you were, soldier," Relena said. He looked flabbergasted but obeyed; she made a mental note that certain tones of voice could be very effective, and filed that particular one away under `arrogant bitch.'  
  
Zechs followed her as she strode from the room; in a soft voice he offered, "I would never think of taking a throne from one so well suited to it."  
  
Relena paused, turned to face him. "And I," she replied, "would never give it up." She graced him with a brief smile. "It's strange _\--_ for a long time I kept thinking about how to best serve the people _\--_ trying to be a good monarch for them. Recently _\--_ very recently _\--_ I have come to realize that it's also about me. I'm not just going to be a good queen because I care about my people; I'm going to be a good queen because I enjoy it. I was born for it."  
  
Zechs acknowledged that with a nod.  
  
"Milliardo," she said, studying him.  
  
"What?" he asked, surprised.  
  
"It's one of the traditional names for males of the Peacecraft family," Relena told him. "Had you been. . . had things been different, I daresay your name would have been Milliardo Peacecraft."  
  
Zechs surprised them both by laughing. "In that case, I think I'm almost glad to have been born a bastard. I don't think I'd much enjoy being a Milliardo."  
  
"Nevertheless," Relena said with a dazzling smile, "that is the name I have given to you, my brother."  
  
"If you were anyone else I'd give you a name in return," Zechs said. "It would most likely be brat."  
  
Relena considered, then nodded. "I think I should quite like being called that."  
  
Zechs lifted a sardonic eyebrow, and opened his mouth _\--_ both of them suddenly jolted.  
  
"That. . . ," Zechs panted.  
  
"The Chamber," Relena said, and, all levity gone from the situation, they ran for the stairs.  
  
+

The king's spymaster had a knife to Quatre Winner's throat.  
  
"Is he dead?" Catherine asked, her eyes filled with tears.   
  
The boy dangled lifelessly in the general's arms.  
  
"No, lady," the man said. "Merely asleep. I'm afraid I gave him too hard a bump on the head."  
  
Catherine let a delicate tear slip from her eye and blinked furiously _\--_ and fetchingly. "I'll call for a doctor _\--_ oh!"  
  
The knife had drawn blood.  
  
"No, lady," the general said. "You won't."  
  
Catherine reached for a handkerchief, and brought it to dab at her eyes. She considered the knives hidden on her person, but discarded them _\--_ if Noventa dropped Quatre, the boy would fall onto the knife, and gravity would do the work for them. She wondered if Meiran had found help yet; she wondered where Hilde had concealed herself. "But sir," she said, affecting a tremor, "he is hurt!"  
  
"Lady, you will be hurt as well if you do not cease that infernal wailing!" the general snapped. "Now listen to me _\--_ I have demands that will be met. You must take them to that useless king of yours for me."  
  
"Grandfather."  
  
Sylvia Noventa, the Poet, moved into the room. The man looked at her with undisguised fury. "You. My traitorous granddaughter."  
  
She moved slowly and proudly towards him. "I, sir, am no traitor."  
  
He spat at her. "No, but a whore and a thief in any case!"  
  
"I am what I am out of duty to you," she maintained, her eyes glittering. "And love."  
  
"And yet you turn against me now," he hissed.  
  
"What kind of man sends his ten year old granddaughter out onto the streets to be attacked?" Sylvia asked. "What kind of man has his ten year old granddaughter sell herself for a few coins and a few words of information? I don't think that kind of man is the kind of man who should be a king."  
  
Heero moved silently forward to stand beside her. "I agree. You will not be king."  
  
The man sneered. "You won't be able to stand against me when I have the Weapon."  
  
"But you don't have it," Relena said from the other side of the room. The man jerked in surprise, nicking Quatre in the process. Trowa, beside the princess, started forward, but was checked by Zechs. . . and by the movement he almost saw in the shadows behind the Weapon's resting place. "And even if you had it _\--_ the Weapon is the gift of the gods to the rightful ruler of Sanc. You are not that ruler."  
  
"And your father is?" the former spymaster taunted. "I think not! If he were, the Weapon would still be here! What more proof do you need? The gods have withdrawn their favor, princess." He said the title like it was a curse.  
  
"I wouldn't go that far," Duo drawled lazily.  
  
They all started _\--_ Heero, sure that the boy had been behind them, stared at his lover in shock. There was something different about the boy _\--_ a look in his eyes, a casual violence in his movements as he lazily reclined on the Weapon's bed beside the false item. Sylvia gasped, just slightly; only Heero heard her utter the name.  
  
"Shinigami."  
  
And, looking back at the elegantly splayed figure, he understood for the first time why they spoke of Shinigami as a separate person from Duo.  
  
"You," Noventa exclaimed. "You're the one I want _\--_ you're that Solo's plaything, are you not? His pet assassin?"  
  
Duo shrugged; the movement rippled through his body like light on water. "Some call me that." His eyes added what his voice did not: but never more than once.  
  
"Sylvia!" The spymaster didn't take his eyes off of Duo. "You will go to your pimp and tell him that I have his plaything. You'll tell him that if he at all values the boy, he'll come here at once with the Weapon."  
  
"He doesn't have it," Sylvia said.  
  
"Then he knows where it is!" Noventa's eyes gleamed with ambition _\--_ the man, Heero realized, was somewhat mad. "I know he does! I've traced the weapon's movements _\--_ and the day it left was the day he snuck in here to try his hand at robbing the palace. I've got a guard who remembers him _\--_ a seer who places him here _\--_ and a magician who swears I'm right!" He laughed at the look on Relena's face. "You see, princess, the gods are guiding me to the Weapon! I am the rightful king. You, boy," this to Duo, "if you don't want your friend's throat slit, you'll come here. And you, ungrateful whore, run for your whoremonger."  
  
"One thing I've learned, during my time as a human," Duo mused out loud, "is that it's generally unwise to wound those you intend to use. Severely, at least. She couldn't go for Solo if she wanted to _\--_ she's lost too much blood. You really should have thought of that before you stabbed her." His tone was mildly censorious, no more, as he sat up, running a finger over the false Weapon. "In any case it's of no matter. I'm here."  
  
"And what do I want with you?" Noventa jeered. "Useless piece of scum."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Duo said. "I thought you were looking for me. The Weapon, right?"  
  
They all stared; the room was silent.  
  
He threw back his head and laughed. "What? You all know the stories. The Weapon was formed by the gods, and imbued with a spirit. You don't think it gets boring lying in a badly decorated room for hundreds of years? The Weapon can change form, right? So why not a human form?" Aware that he had their attention, he slid the false Weapon along his skin _\--_ much in the same way, Heero realized, that he had slid his face along Heero's body. The thought was the only thing clear to him in the silent room _\--_ the roaring in his ears was drowning out everything else.  
  
"I had my mind almost made up," Duo continued, lowering his voice to a purr, "when the thief came. So. . . lo." He keened the name like a lover might in the depths of passion. "So I shaped myself to be something like him. . . and followed him home. This thing," he shrugged, and flipped the scythe, catching the sharp edge without injury _\--_ but it didn't stop as he caught it _\--_ instead seem to vanish into his body like it belonged there, "was left as a diversion. Worked fairly well, too. Took you a few years to notice, didn't it? And even longer before someone else did, and made you tell the king. In the meantime. . . I've had fun." He sauntered closer to the would-be king _\--_ Heero had the odd thought that his eyes did not look human, and then could have wept. Because they were not.  
  
Quatre was awake, now, and staring at Duo like the rest of them. Duo tapped the man's arm, and he let go, in a daze; Quatre stumbled forward. Trowa caught him. Duo slipped into the man's arms in Quatre's place, and twined his own back around the man's neck, displaying himself provocatively. "You wanted me," he said, the sexual invitation in his voice patently obvious, "now use me."  
  
Heero growled, low in his throat, and took a step forward. Duo's gaze whipped around and shocked him into stillness _\--_ his lover's eyes gleamed like purple glass. They had no pupils, no iris _\--_ just color, so bright it hurt to look at.  
  
Noventa ran his hands gingerly down the boy's body; the look on his face was one of rapture so intense it was almost painful to watch. "The Weapon," he moaned. "How. . . how do I. . . ?"  
  
"Simple," Duo purred invitingly, and in a heartbeat he was around to the man's back, the false Weapon once again in his hands. "You don't." He pressed the scythe to the man's throat and laughed. "I can't believe you fell for that!"  
  
Noventa still seemed as if drugged. "You mean. . . you're not. . . the Weapon?"  
  
"No," Duo said, almost gently. "I'm just Death." With that he slit the man's throat.  
  
The heirs to the Clans of the Sanc Kingdom watched as the older man shook with the agony of death _\--_ and as the boy holding him in his arms shook with the ecstasy of killing.  
  
Finally, he shuddered one last time, his hands bright with blood, and let the man's body drop to the floor. His eyes were still intense with color _\--_ he turned to Heero and held out a bright hand.  
  
"You killed him," Relena whispered.  
  
"He meant to kill you tonight," Sylvia said, staring at her grandfather's body. "You would not both have left this room alive, princess. He would have killed you, and the Winner, and me as well _\--_ he would have killed us all to protect himself."  
  
Relena nodded, her eyes full but no tears falling. She walked towards Duo. "You _\--_ aren't the Weapon?"  
  
The boy was stroking bloody hands along Heero's still form. "Me? No."  
  
"But the scythe. . . ."  
  
The boy spared one hand to pull his shirt tight against himself _\--_ the outline of a scythe could clearly be seen there. "Slight of hand. Useful now and then."  
  
"I see," Relena said, and blinked. "I think that _\--_ "  
  
"Your highness," Sylvia said with a quiet urgency, "Send Shinigami away. Now. There'll be time enough to question Duo later, but until Shinigami's gone the danger isn't over."  
  
Relena stared at her, then at the boy who was ignoring them both. "Yes. Heero, perhaps you'd better take him somewhere else."  
  
The Odin seemed dazed, but managed a nod, and then dragged the other boy from the Chamber.  
  
"I hope he'll be all right," Relena said. "Du _\--_ Shinigami _\--_ he won't hurt him?"  
  
Sylvia was staring after them as well. "Probably nothing fatal." She glanced down at her grandfather's body. "You should know that there's another one dead, in a closet not too far from here. My _\--_ his assistant. We encountered him on the way up."  
  
Relena bit her lip, and then nodded decisively. "Yes." She looked around. Trowa had led Quatre off _\--_ Lucrezia had her face hidden against Zechs' shoulder _\--_ Wufei and Meiran conferred quietly while Hilde looked with a blank face upon the work of her childhood playmate. "Could I prevail upon someone to bring that body here before the guards are summoned?"  
  
+  
  
Heero shut the door _\--_   
  
And found himself slammed up against it. Duo's hands, still slick, were all over his body, tearing at his clothes; Duo's teeth, fast and sharp, were drawing blood from several points on his body. Duo's eyes, when he tilted Heero's head back to kiss him into dizziness, were still bright.  
  
Duo pulled back, and Heero gasped for breath as the other boy slid down his body, denuding him as he went down. He groaned as Duo's mouth slid around him, as Duo's teeth grazed him, as Duo took him firmly by the balls and the god of Death worshipped at his feet. To soon, the other boy was pulling away. "Duo," Heero moaned.  
  
"Sorry," his lover panted, "but no. Maybe later." In one easy movement he hooked his hands under Heero's legs and pulled them up to waist level, leaving Heero with his back against the door and his feet dangling in the air. "Right now. . . there's just me."  
  
Heero managed to bring a hand up, to touch Death's face. To lean forward and kiss him.  
  
Duo laughed, and the sound was like funeral bells. Holding onto Heero, he walked backward until the bed bumped at the back of his knees. He sat, moved his head forward as if to kiss Heero, but at the last minute laughed instead, and turned the other boy so that he could rest his lips against the back of Heero's neck. With an easy movement he guided himself _\--_ lowered Heero _\--_ and seated the boy on his lap. Heero gasped and tried to move his head, but Duo's bit kept him from doing so. One hand, still dark with drying blood, moved to caress him _\--_ the other wrapped itself around his throat.  
  
Duo began to move within him.  
  
Both hands tightened; Duo's mouth butted against his neck in thrusts matching the movements of his hips. "I could kill you," he whispered.  
  
Heero was vaguely aware that he was making sounds that were only barely human.  
  
"I could kill you right now," Duo said, his voice growing louder, his breath coming faster, his hips moving harder. "I could bite through your spine," he bit, "I could rip out your throat," he illustrated by dragging fingernails across that region, "I could strangle you," and Heero found his air supply had decreased. "I could kill you right now," Duo breathed, and thrust again. Heero couldn't breathe _\--_ lights were starting to explode in the corners of his eyes. "Duo," he choked, and came, the pressure of his lover's hands too much to bear.  
  
Duo made some noise, something, and moved, throwing himself face down on the bed with Heero beneath him, and began to go faster still, his mouth on Heero's shoulder now, sucking as if he could steal some of the boy's soul that way.  
  
Heero, just before the sensations and unconsciousness claimed him, had the thought that this was what it felt like to die.  
  
+  
  
"This man was attempting to steal the Weapon," Relena said. "We came across him in the event _\--_ my lord Noventa tried his utmost to protect Us and Our Weapon, and was slain in the process." Her tears were quite real, even if the reason for them was not what the listeners would suspect. "Bury him with a hero's honors."  
  
Catherine, watching, wondered why anyone would want to be a monarch, when they had to do things like confer honor among traitors simply to keep the public from panicking. She, herself, was close to that state; the Weapon was gone, they knew not where, and without it Sanc could not stand should any kingdom try to challenge them. They had for too long avoided having an army, choosing instead to rely on the benediction from the gods that they had called the Weapon.  
  
"But your highness," one of the guards asked, looking uncomfortably around, "where is the Weapon?"  
  
Catherine managed to keep her face straight, but inside she was cursing. The false Weapon was still under Duo's shirt.  
  
"I entrusted it to my Clan Heirs for safety," Relena said, her expression not varying. "It will be back in the Chamber shortly _\--_ I simply wanted to make sure it was safe while this traitor ran free." She looked over at the anonymous man's body, then back at the guards. "If you will excuse us _\--_ it is late, and none of us have slept."  
  
The man bowed. "Of course, your highness."  
  
Outside the bells struck three.  
  
+  
  
He blacked out only for a second _\--_ when he came back to himself Duo was lost in the throes of ecstasy, and Heero felt a strange humility, knowing that his body had brought the fearsome killer to this helpless joy. The other boy collapsed on him, and Heero wiggled out from under him, turned over, and got as close as he could to the other boy.  
  
There was a soft knock on the door.  
  
Cursing, Heero rose, and answered it.  
  
Relena's eyes went wide.  
  
He remembered too late that he was naked _\--_ that there was blood on him in streaks, along with other bodily fluids _\--_ that his throat was probably used. In short, he looked like he'd just been well, if violently, used.  
  
He shrugged. It was no more than the truth.  
  
"I simply came to remind you that Duo took with him the Weapon," Relena said, her eyes reminding him that as far as the rest of the world was concerned that was the genuine article. "If you would be so kind as to keep it by you, and return it as soon as you have the chance."  
  
"Of course," Heero said.  
  
"And. . . Heero?" She paused, gathered her courage. "If you would convey to him my thanks, I would be most appreciative." Her eyes, guileless, met his. "He saved my life _\--_ I know that from what Sylvia said. He saved my brother's _\--_ my father was angry enough to order execution. I am forever in his debt." She turned then, and paused. "Though things would have been much easier," she added, "were he truly who he said he was."  
  
Heero narrowed his eyes, not entirely sure if she meant that Duo would better have been the Weapon or the lordling he had introduced himself to them as. "He does all right for what he is," was all he said.  
  
Relena nodded, accepted the rebuke. "Yes," she murmured, and cast an eye over his body. "So I see."  
  
+  
  
Heero was still blushing when he slipped back into bed _\--_ it had been made worse by the glance he'd caught of himself in the mirror. He had immediately washed the worst of it off, and wet a cloth to attend Duo.  
  
The other boy was shaking, balled up in the center of the bed. "Heero," he said, his voice weak.  
  
"I'm here," Heero said, moving closer, wrapping his arms around his lover. "Right here."  
  
Duo looked up at him _\--_ his eyes were back to normal now, save for the uncharacteristic uncertainty that wavered in them. "Did I hurt you?"  
  
Heero pulled one of Duo's hands toward him, and began to clean off the blood. "I've had worse."  
  
The gruff sound of Heero's voice shocked the boy; he moved his now clean hand to gently touch the bruise forming at Heero's throat. "I did hurt you."  
  
Heero began to clean the other hand. "I didn't exactly mind. And I did survive."  
  
At that Duo's face collapsed, and the tremors grew stronger. "He didn't, did he?" Duo asked.  
  
Heero thought of the quantity of blood that Noventa had produced _\--_ who would have thought the old man had such blood in him? "No. You killed him, for which you have the princess' gratitude. And the country's, if it knew well enough. You saved Quatre's life _\--_ and judging from the way that Trowa was holding him, you earned yourself some supporters there, too."  
  
"I wish I were the Weapon," Duo whispered, burrowing into Heero's skin. "Barring that, I wish I hated it. I wish it didn't always leave me buzzing with energy and lust." His eyes against Heero's smooth chest were damp. "Heero. . . why don't I seem to have a soul?"  
  
All Heero could think to do was pull the boy closer, and hold him until the shaking stopped.  
  
There would be time enough in the morning to ask why the false Weapon, ostensibly hidden beneath Duo's clothing, had not been there when he had ripped off Duo's shirt.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Zillie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Upon receiving a message from the king, the Winner clan's soldiers searched the Raberba holding. Among the things found were personal items that had belong to Quatre's missing sister, evidence of dealings with groups in other countries, and the body of Lady Faiza's mother, who had taken poison rather than be caught. The holdings of Raberba were seized by the king and bestowed upon the family of Noventa, in honor of the heroic death of their leader.  
  
He was buried with full honors. The king, who knew the truth, was solemn and spoke little. His son, who did not, seemed to find his new status as Clan Leader of little comfort. His daughters cried copious amounts. His granddaughter, standing beside her father, did not.  
  
+  
  
No connection between the receivers of stolen goods in Oz and Treize Kushrenada could be found. The Oz king expressed his great regret that such a thing had happened, but swore that he had no personal involvement in it.  
  
Nobody believed him.  
  
+  
  
"We are of course sorry that you will be leaving us so soon," Relena said politely, her smile just a bit too happy. She couldn't help it _\--_ she would be glad to see the last of Dorothy Catalonia.  
  
"I thank your highness for your hospitality, but it is indeed time we were leaving," Dorothy said, with a glance at Trowa.  
  
The Oz prince was still.  
  
"Oh, has our honored father not told you? We delight so in Prince Trowa's company that we are requesting that he stay. As an ambassador, as it were," Relena said, enjoying the momentary discomfort that crossed Dorothy's face.  
  
"I don't know," Dorothy began, but Relena cut her off.  
  
"We are sure that our cousin would not deny us the pleasure of his company," Relena said. "Especially not in such a trying time. We have our cousin's assurances that he wishes to support us in every way, after all."  
  
Dorothy's lips compressed. "Of course, your highness. In that case, perhaps I should. . . ."  
  
"Oh, no," Relena said. "We wouldn't dream of keeping you any longer _\--_ we would never deny our cousin the. . . experience of your company."  
  
Dorothy curtseyed. "You are too kind."  
  
Yes, Relena thought, I am.  
  
Sally stayed silent until Dorothy had been gone several minutes. "That was interesting," she said tentatively.  
  
"After all," Relena said with a satisfied smile, "One must find one's enjoyment somewhere."  
  
Sally wasn't sure that insulting Dorothy Catalonia, however politely, was a good way to do that, but the air of satisfaction about Relena kept her silent.  
  
She might not have let that stop her had she seen the smile on Dorothy's face as the duchess prepared to leave.  
  
+  
  
Catherine and Quatre were waiting for him. "Well?" Catherine said.  
  
"I'm to be an ambassador," Trowa said, not able to keep himself from smiling. "I'll be representing a people who hate me to a people. . . ," and he shrugged, unable to think of a way to gracefully finish the sentence.  
  
"To a people who don't," Quatre said, taking his lover's hand.  
  
Trowa felt as though his whole life was falling into place as neatly as his fingers mixed with Quatre's.  
  
Catherine was ecstatic, as well. "I truly believe that the Wanderer clan would benefit from an Oz emissary," she said in mock thoughtfulness.  
  
"Yes," Quatre agreed. "Just think of all the things you could teach the lions about fashion. And hairstyles."  
  
"You're one to talk," Trowa growled playfully, batting at the boy's slightly shaggy head.  
  
"Quatre's right," Catherine said. "We could use you. And I think it would go both ways."  
  
Trowa shot her a smile.  
  
"For example," she continued thoughtfully, "the monkeys could teach you an awful lot about flirting." She neatly dodged his playful swat. "And the pigs about grooming!"  
  
"And the _\--_ " Quatre began, but was cut off by an approaching Magunac.  
  
"Master Quatre," the man said, bowing respectfully. "I have news and gifts from your father." He paused for a second, then went on, "as well as from fourteen of your sisters and two of your wives. They're all quite concerned for you, sir."  
  
Quatre sighed, but looked pleased. "Women. They worry so much. Have you brought me the latest reports from the third caravan?"  
  
"Of course, sir," the man said, leading him off. Catherine followed, intent on seeing if any of the gifts were of interest. Only Trowa stayed behind.  
  
"Wives?" he said.  
  
+  
  
She watched her lover dress to leave her.  
  
"They're looking for you," she said.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Will you let them find you?"  
  
He pulled his pants up and buttoned them over his skinny body. "Not yet. It's not time yet."  
  
"Do you know more then you've said? About the Weapon?" She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him pull on one boot.  
  
He paused for a second. "Nothing I can tell you now."  
  
"And Duo?"  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"He's a little. . . confused."  
  
Solo shrugged. "He'll manage."  
  
"He's awfully mad at you. Not least for lying to him about Lady Hilde."  
  
"You said to distract him for a day or so. I did that. Besides," and he pulled his other boot on with a tug, "it was a good test."  
  
"What would you have done if he'd said yes?" she asked softly.  
  
He looked at her, and the brightness of his eyes as he did so made her whole body contract with joy. Or pain. Or something. "I would have been surprised."  
  
"Nothing surprises you," she said.  
  
He leaned forward and touched her face. "You do. Always." He kissed her softly, the pulled away. "You promised to love and honor me. Remember?"  
  
She laughed wryly. "I'm not likely to forget."  
  
Solo kissed her again. "If you can manage that _\--_ and honoring me, I'm sure, is no small feat _\--_ then please try and trust me. At least for a few days."  
  
"I don't think I have a choice."  
  
"You're a Clan Heir now. You have a lot of choices. Hell, they'll probably start trying to marry you off before too long."  
  
"They're too late," she said simply, and pulled him back to her.  
  
+  
  
In the week since Noventa's death Duo had been watching him carefully. Heero wasn't sure if the other boy knew that he'd noticed, but he had. It had started the next day _\--_ Duo had slept through to Sunday, and when he'd woken up, there had been a look in his eyes as he took in Heero, who was watching him. "Did I hurt you?" he'd finally said.  
  
Heero shrugged. "I've had worse."  
  
Duo had reached out a tentative hand and touched Heero's throat. "You're hoarse. I did hurt you."  
  
Heero had leaned in and stared his lover directly in the eyes. "I've had worse," he repeated. "And I hope I'll have worse in the future."  
  
That morning, for the first time, he was the one who entered, and Duo was the one who opened.  
  
And ever since Duo had been watching Heero. With a look _\--_ but Heero couldn't describe it. It put him in mind of horses who had come from bad masters, of prisoners who had just realized that they were completely at their captor's power. It made him realize that for all Duo's much touted sexual experience, the boy knew next to nothing about relationships. Even less, if such a thing was possible, than did Heero himself.  
  
And that scared him. Because he was sure that before too long, one of them was going to mess up. He was fairly sure that it would be Duo. And he was afraid _\--_ though he only admitted it to himself late at night _\--_ that he wasn't going to know how to deal with it.  
  
And, he thought to himself one night as he watched Duo sleep, if he lost this, he'd lost it all.  
  
+  
  
"In the two weeks that you have been here we have had several unusual occurrences," Relena said, looking around the room. She took a deep breath and said it. "The Weapon is missing. You all know that." Their faces were solemn _\--_ and supportive. She looked around at them, and for a second the fear which had been plaguing her lifted. Wufei. Meiran. Hilde. Catherine. Lucrezia. Quatre. Sylvia, new to their ranks. Heero, whose eyes still made her feel like everything would work out. And Zechs. Her brother. Even Duo, who was the closest thing to a Weapon she had. And Sally, her sister, who stood beside her as always. They would manage this."  
  
"I go to Raberba," she said, "with Lady Sylvia and her parents, to establish them as head of the house there."  
  
Sylvia looked stricken. "I _\--_ your highness, I do not want a holding purchased with treachery."  
  
"It's not yours because of your grandfather, whatever everyone may think," Relena said simply. "It's yours because of you. Because you have served this crown since you were far too young to be doing so, because you served this crown even when your own flesh and blood bade you otherwise, and because I believe that you will, one day, be an excellent Clan Leader."  
  
"With all due respect, your highness," Sylvia said uncomfortably, "I'm a decent thief, and a decent poet. I'm no kind of leader."  
  
"You will be," Duo said quietly.  
  
Relena looked at him in surprise. He nodded to her, and she found herself nodding back. "You will be," she echoed.  
  
"What of the rest of us?" Hilde asked.  
  
"You'll come with me," Relena said. "That is to say, the ladies Hilde, Catherine, and Meiran will accompany Sylvia and I." She held up a hand to stop their protests. "It is customary for the Clan daughters to spend time with the princess. It is _\--_ I will also feel more comfortable with those who I can trust as warriors and as friends," she admitted.  
  
"Am I to go with you as well?" Lucrezia asked.  
  
"No," Relena said. "It is also customary for Clan Heirs to work closely with the monarch. You will work with my father's cabinet _\--_ I hope that you can help us determine whether or not Noventa worked alone. Lord Zechs will stay here as well."  
  
Zechs looked up.  
  
"I hope that seeing you working so closely with my father will allay any suspicions that people may harbor after last week's. . . fiasco," she added, and then turned to the rest of them.  
  
"And you're going to find the Weapon," she said.  
  
Heero, Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei managed to exchange a five way glance. "What?" they chorused.  
  
Relena could not prevent a smile. "You work well together. I think you have proven that. You can also travel with less fanfare than could I or the ladies. I have every faith that you will do your utmost for Sanc and for peace."  
  
Duo, sprawled over a very expensive chair, gave her a look. "And why would I want to do this?"  
  
"I don't know," she said. "Why would you want to do this?"  
  
He thought. "Schools."  
  
She had expected a demand for some jewel. "Schools?"  
  
"Aye, and you heard me. Schools. I want the schools improved. I want the orphanages better funded. And I want my brothers and sisters, all seven of them, granted full pardons for any crimes, and taken care of." He glanced casually at Sylvia, and then added, "Hell. I want them made bloody lords and ladies."  
  
Relena raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit of a high order."  
  
Duo shrugged. "What I'm going to bring you is worth it."  
  
"You bring me what I want, and I'll give you what you want. I'm not entirely sure about the ennobling _\--_ that's not a simple matter."  
  
Duo shrugged. "I think Solo's the only one who might care. As for the rest _\--_ bring 'em here and take care of them while I'm gone, and we'll call it even."  
  
Next to Relena, Sally Po watched with a morbid curiosity. To have seven _\--_ well, six since Solo was missing _\--_ street rats living here? While she was in charge?  
  
It could be interesting.  
  
Relena nodded. "Done." She turned to Sally _\--_ Duo stopped her.  
  
"Oh, and I want that diamond of yours." She looked at him in astonishment _\--_ if he meant what she thought he meant, he was after one of the kingdom's prizes. "You know the one I'm talking about," he said, and reached into his pocket. "This one."  
  
He dangled the jewel known as the Sun of Sanc before a horrified assembly.  
  
Relena snickered.  
  
Duo grinned in return and tossed it to her. She fumbled but managed to catch it. "Just kidding," he said.  
  
o*wa*ri


End file.
